


Black Bird; Green Arrow

by Wtchcool



Category: Arrow (TV 2012), The Cape (2011)
Genre: F/M, Identity Reveal, M/M, Quiver (pairing), eventually
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-24
Updated: 2017-07-13
Packaged: 2017-11-26 17:01:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 24,106
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/652477
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wtchcool/pseuds/Wtchcool
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"We've had a bit of a vigilante problem. This Hood goes around shooting people with a bow and arrow, seems to think he's helping by breaking laws. He's being credited with getting criminals to turn themselves in. What's your stance on a guy that dresses up in tights, hides his face and flaunts the law?"</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Send Me on My Way

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: If I owned “Arrow” and “The Cape,” Quiver and Peter/Vince would be canon.
> 
> I’m doing my best to make sure that members of only one of the fandoms aren’t confused. If you’re lost, let me know.
> 
> This is technically a crossover with “Eat, Pray, Love,” as Ian is from that film. If you haven’t seen the movie, you don’t have to, but you’re missing out.
> 
> The chapter title is from Rusted Root’s song.
> 
> If you want to read more, let me know.
> 
> Incidentally, I can’t believe they barely included Quentin in tonight’s episode! I promise he will feature in this story.

            _It was night and the billionaire was alone in the parking lot—or so he thought. A hooded figure above him caught his attention and it wasn’t the one he was accustomed to seeing._

 

            _“Peter Fleming, you have failed this city_. _”_

_An arrow was fitted to a bow and aimed._

 

* * *

**PREVIOUSLY:**

_Palm City, Franklin_

            “Vince, could you come inside for a minute?” Dana asked. Her ex-husband, Vince Faraday, had just dropped off their twelve-year-old son, Trip.

 

            “Sure,” the sandy haired man acquiesced, following her inside.

 

            The Faradays had been happily married until one night a couple of years ago. Vince, a sergeant in the police force at the time, had received a tip from the blogger known as Orwell. Orwell had sent him to the train yards, where illegal explosives were being smuggled into the city on behalf of the masked villain calling himself Chess.

 

            Vince was ambushed by Chess, who revealed his secret identity to be Peter Fleming, the CEO of ARK Corporation. Unfortunately for Vince, the city had just delegated the Palm City Police Department’s duties to ARK Corporation. Fleming had one of his men staple Chess’ mask onto Faraday’s head, and then had his forces chase the last honest cop through the city on live television.

 

            The chase had ended when Vince was seemingly blown up in an explosion. In reality, he’d been safely tucked away in a tunnel underneath the exploding truck.

 

            With Fleming framing him for Chess’ crimes, Faraday had allowed everyone to believe he was dead. He’d continued to do so until Fleming had had a change of heart and publicly declared that Vince had been innocent.*

 

            Vince had decided it was then safe to announce to the world that he had survived the explosion. He had thought that he would then be able to go home to his old life.

 

            He’d been wrong. In his absence, his wife had gotten over the loss of her husband and fallen in love with Jack Kirchner (a law school professor). Shortly after Vince’s return, Dana had filed for divorce.

 

            Now Vince wondered what was up.

 

            “What is it?” he asked, after she had him take a seat.

 

            “Vince, Jack’s been offered a job in Starling City. He’s thinking of taking it.” She bit her lip. “If he does, well, he asked me to go with him.”

 

            “What?”

 

            “I’ve scheduled an interview with Starling City’s Legal Aid Office. If I get the job, I’ll…”

 

            “You’ll take Trip away from me? Dana, we agreed to joint custody! How would I see Trip if he’s—”

 

            “Starling City isn’t that far from Palm City,” she interrupted him. “It’s in the same state. You could commute!”

 

            “Do you know how many hours that would take?” Vince demanded.

 

            “Well, what if you moved, too?”

 

            “What?”

 

            “Vince, I know you’ve been having trouble finding a job since…what happened. And I know you’d rather die than work for ARK Corporation. Starling City’s police force hasn’t been privatized. I’ll bet that they would hire you.”

 

            Vince stared at her. She did have a point. He could be a police officer again. And he wouldn’t have to worry about being separated from his son. But the thought of leaving Palm City, which had always been his home… how could he?

 

            Even when he’d been a fugitive, he’d refused to leave. He’d told his friend Max Malini that he wouldn’t let his son think he was a coward that ran from his problems. He had stayed and become Palm City’s vigilante, the Cape. But he’d done that to stay near Trip.

 

            His former partner, Orwell, had recently moved to Starling City herself. After Vince’s name had been cleared, she’d decided to reconcile with her father. To the Cape’s great surprise, her father was none other than Peter Fleming.

 

            Fleming had welcomed his long-lost daughter, Jamie, back with open arms. (It helped that he had no clue that she had been the blogger denouncing him at every turn.) He’d wasted no time in putting her in charge of ARK Corporation’s Starling City offices.

 

            So Orwell had left her friend behind. He had missed her, but not nearly as much as he would miss his son if Dana took him away. He could, he supposed, take her to court to try to stop her from moving, but he doubted he’d fare well against the attorney. Most people in Palm City still seemed to suspect him of being Chess, despite all the evidence to the contrary.

 

            By the time he left Dana’s, he’d decided to send the Starling City Police Department his résumé.

 

* * *

_Starling City_

            “Dad! Hi!” Jamie greeted her father at the restaurant.

 

            “Great to see you, Jamie,” he embraced her. Then he nodded to the maître d’ and they were seated promptly. “You said you had news?” Peter asked, noticing the additional places at the table.

 

            “I did. I’ve been seeing someone and I want you to meet him.”

 

            “Sounds serious,” Peter commented, immensely pleased that his daughter was involving him in her life.

 

            “Sorry I’m late, honey.” The new arrival kissed Jamie briefly on the lips before turning to Peter, whose mouth was wide open. “This must be your father.”

 

            “Dad, I’d like to introduce you to—”

 

            “Faraday and I have met,” Peter said, regaining his composure.

 

            “No, you’re thinking of my brother, Vince. I’m Ian,” the look-a-like shook Fleming’s hand.

 

            “I was unaware Faraday had a twin.”

 

            “I knew Vince wouldn’t talk about me. You’d think he was ashamed of me or something.”

 

            “Ian spent a few years in Bali,” Jamie added. “He hasn’t seen his brother in years.”

 

            “Oh, a lengthy separation from family; it sounds like we have something in common. Tell me how you two met.”

 

* * *

            “You must hate me,” Peter addressed Ian later that evening, while Jamie was in the bathroom. “For what I did to your brother,” he added.

 

            “No more than Jamie does,” Ian said, shrugging. At Fleming’s perplexed look, he continued. “Didn’t you know? Jamie said she was friends with Vince.”

 

            “No, I didn’t know,” the Brit answered. “I don’t suppose she said how she’d known—”

 

            “I’m back,” Jamie announced, before resuming her seat. “You weren’t talking about me while I was gone, were you?”

 

            “I was just telling your father about how we’ve decided to let bygones be bygones. After all, it’s not like he’s the jerk that set up my brother.”

 

            An awkward silence ensued in which neither Fleming corrected Ian. Peter’s decision to clear Faraday’s name had not been accompanied by a desire to tell the complete truth. He was quite fond of not being in prison.

 

            Jamie was one of the few people that knew that it hadn’t been Marty Voyt who had framed Vince that night, but as long as her father was trying to turn over a new leaf, she wouldn’t have to remain his adversary.

 

* * *

            In his hideout underneath the future nightclub, Oliver Queen and his bodyguard/confidante John Diggle watched the news.

 

            Oliver had once lived with a devil-may-care attitude. That had stopped five years ago when he’d boarded the _Queen’s Gambit_ with his girlfriend’s sister** and his father. The boat had gone down, but he and his father had made it into the lifeboat.

 

            He hadn’t expected his father to commit suicide before his eyes.

 

            Before Robert Queen shot himself, he’d handed his son a notebook filled with names, warning Oliver that the people in the book were poisoning Starling City.

 

            After Oliver had been rescued from the island he’d been shipwrecked on, he’d taken it upon himself to take care of all of the people on the list. As the vigilante the Hood, he was making pretty good progress towards that goal—with some help from Diggle.

 

            “So Peter Fleming’s in town,” Diggle observed as they watched the newscast. “Wonder whether he’s here to check on his daughter or on his business.”

 

            “Either way, he’s going to wish he hadn’t made the trip,” Oliver replied. “He’s on the list.”

 

* * *

 

***For why Peter had the change of heart, see “Putting Chess in Check,” the prequel to this.**

****In retrospect, he understood that he’d been a major jackass in seeing Sara Lance behind Laurel’s back.**


	2. The Faces, the Names, and the Trends

            “Peter Fleming is on the list,” Diggle repeated. “Is there any member of the one percent that isn’t on there?” he joked. Sometimes it did seem as though the list was composed of every billionaire outside the Queen family, with maybe a couple of ‘average Joes’ thrown in for accent. “Don’t answer that,” he added before Oliver could speak.

 

            “I think I’ve got a pretty good idea why he’s on the list,” Oliver went over to the computer and pulled up Orwell’s blog. The symbol of the all-seeing eye swirled on a red background before duplicating itself; the twin eyes settled at the top of the page above the entries. “Take a look at this. Orwell suspects him of everything from trying to kill Palm City’s Secretary of Prisons to illegally arresting and detaining citizens. _And_ he’s got evidence that Fleming’s involved with organized crime.”

 

            “But nothing’s stuck to him so far,” Diggle observed.

 

            “It’s hard to make things stick to the person in charge of local law enforcement. Fleming made a show of cleaning up his corporation, supposedly rooting out the bad apples, but his hands weren’t clean,” Oliver emphasized his point by tapping the notebook containing the list. Fleming’s name was on there; that was all he really needed to know. “It seems a safe bet that the corruption spread to ARK’s Starling City offices.”

 

            “Did you notice that Orwell hasn’t updated his blog in over a year?” Diggle asked. “Do you suppose Fleming got to him?”

 

            “I don’t know, but I’d like to find out.”

 

~VF~

 

 

            The following morning, Jamie Fleming was checking her e-mail on her office computer when she noticed she had a message from Vince Faraday. She clicked on it.

 

            _I have a surprise for you._

 

            She started to type a reply when her door opened, revealing a familiar looking six foot figure.

 

            “Surprise!” Vince called.

 

            Jamie blinked.

 

            “Vince, is that you?” she asked, standing up from her desk to greet him. He looked exactly like Ian, and yet the two were so different. Since she’d known Vince, he’d always been carrying the weight of the world—or at least Palm City—on his shoulders. She didn’t like to dwell on the role she had played in putting that burden there. Ian, on the other hand, was so carefree, so full of life that it was contagious.

 

            “Who else would it be?” he asked.

 

            “Well…” _your identical twin_. “What are you doing in Starling City?” the brunette asked. Vince explained to her Dana’s intention to move and take Trip with her.

 

            “So I’ve scheduled an interview with the Starling City P.D. and as long as I’m here, I thought I’d look up my favorite partner. You seem to be doing well here,” he gestured around her large office with the fantastic view (and tried to ignore the similarities it shared with her father’s office).

 

            “I am. You know, since I’ve come here, for the first time I’ve seen the potential ARK has to do some real good for society. I think I can make a difference without hiding behind a blog. I feel different, like I’m finally…” she searched for the word.

 

            “You’re happy,” Vince supplied.

 

            “Exactly,” she beamed.

 

            “Well, I’m happy for you, Orwell.”

 

            “You can call me Jamie, Vince,” she informed him, her smile dimming.

 

            “Sorry, force of habit.” Orwell had been the only name he’d had for her until she’d decided to make peace with her father. “You know, I have to say, I thought I’d have more trouble getting in to see you at your office, but I was shown right on up. It was almost like security recognized me,” Vince said, puzzled.

 

            “Is that so?” Jamie asked. Security had presumably not been informed that her boyfriend had an identical twin, an oversight on her part. Not that she would’ve kept Vince out, but…

 

            “What’s going on, Orwell?”

 

            “What do you mean?”

 

            “I mean you’ve got that look on your face that says you’re hiding something from me. I should know it because you wore it the entire time we were partners.”

 

            “Vince—”

 

            “No, I get it. You didn’t want me to associate you with your father and considering your father is Chess—”

 

            “Vince!” she hissed.

 

            “What? Don’t tell me someone’s spying on Orwell?”

 

            “I’m not Orwell anymore. I’m through with that.”

 

            “Are you also through with keeping secrets?” he asked.

 

            “Fine,” she sighed. Then she mumbled something under her breath.

 

            “Sorry, I couldn’t make that out,” Vince raised a hand to his ear.

 

            “I said ‘I’m dating your brother,’” she repeated.

 

            Vince waited a beat, to see if she was having him on. Then he realized she was serious. He ran a hand through his sandy curls.

 

            “Wow, I…I didn’t even know Ian was in Starling, let alone that you and he,” _would hit it off—_ “had met. Have you been dating long?” Since when did Ian date for that matter? Last time Vince checked, his brother was a nymphomaniac.

 

            “Long enough for me to have introduced him to my father; you do know about him being in town?”

 

            “I heard,” he grimaced. “I’m hoping to be able to avoid him.”

 

            “Surely dinner last night didn’t go that badly, Faraday?”

 

            The sound of that voice made Vince tense even as he turned to face the source of it. Sure enough, Peter Fleming stood in the doorway to the office: black haired, Vince’s height, but eyes a lighter shade of blue, ears that were considerably too big for his face and a suit that probably cost more than Vince’s last salary.

 

            Faraday’s heart started beating faster at the sight of that bastard who had thrown his life into chaos—the same man he’d rescued from a would-be assassin. Why, _why_ had he saved Fleming from Dice? The blonde savant might have been crazy, but not because she’d believed the billionaire deserved to die.

 

            “I hate to interrupt the happy couple,” Peter began.

 

            “You weren’t—we’re not—Dad, this is _Vince_ ,” Jamie hastened to set her father straight.

 

            Was Vince imagining it, or did the older man grow paler?

 

            “I see.”

 

            “Don’t worry, Chess. I was just leaving.”

 

            The younger man left before Peter could come up with a response. Faraday was a loose end. When he’d cleared the man’s name, he’d believed the former cop was dead. But here he was, walking around, knowing Peter’s secret… Well, Faraday wasn’t the first. He’d just have to figure out a way to neutralize that threat.

 

~QL~

 

 

            “Now you understand, Mr. Faraday, that this is just a preliminary interview. The higher ups will decide whether or not you get called back,” Detective Lance explained as Vince took a seat opposite him.

 

            “I understand,” Vince nodded. He’d changed into a suit between leaving the ARK building and coming down to the police precinct.

 

            “Did you bring a copy of your résumé?” Quentin asked.

 

            Vince had and handed the piece of paper over for Lance to inspect.

 

            “Not bad. You had a fairly impressive record at the Palm City Police Department, up until, well, the allegations against you weren’t exactly kept secret.”

 

            “I’m aware of that, Detective, but as I’m sure you’re aware, they were proven false. It’s not entirely unheard of for an innocent man to be wrongly accused—”

 

            Lance grunted, remembering the night he’d removed Oliver Queen’s ankle bracelet. He’d had probable cause to arrest Queen.

 

            “What’s your stance on vigilantes?”

 

            “Pardon?” Vince asked.

 

            “You may have heard we’ve had a bit of a vigilante problem in this city lately. This Hood character, goes around shooting people with a bow and arrow, seems to think he’s helping society by breaking laws on a regular basis. He’s being credited with getting some white collar criminals to turn themselves in or try to make restitution for their deeds.

 

            “So what’s your stance on a guy that dresses up in tights, hides his face and flaunts the law?”

 

            Vince blinked. Lance wasn’t exactly hiding his feelings on the subject. It was clear what he’d have to say if he wanted a shot at this job. The difficulty was that his alter ego had a few things in common with the Hood.

 

            He hadn’t stopped to think about what he would do if he moved to Starling City—specifically, about whether the Cape would retire. If he considered the reasons why he’d donned the costume in the first place:

 

            -To try to clear his name: That had been taken care of. He hadn’t figured out what ulterior motive Fleming had in helping him, but regardless, his reputation was on the mend.

 

            -To bring down Fleming: That remained unfinished. He could hardly work on that from another city.

 

            -And finally, he’d worn the costume to reunite with his son, which was coincidentally why he was here, in this interview.

 

            “Detective Lance, I can assure you that I wouldn’t let anyone stop me from doing my sworn duty as a cop. Two years ago, I nearly died for the offense of refusing to take bribes to look the other way. I took pride in my name, and now that I have it back, I’m not going to do anything to jeopardize it.”

 

            Lance grinned.

 

            “Before I let you go, do you have any questions for me?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It took me three search engines to locate one buddy icon for “The Cape.” That’s just sad. If anyone finds/creates more, please give me a heads-up.
> 
> Chapter title is from Bowling for Soup’s “High School Never Ends.”


	3. Give Up the Fight

            “Dad, if I could offer you a little advice? If you want to date the guy, don’t act like you’re going to kill him.”

 

            Peter nearly choked on his drink. He was taking Jamie out for a lunch. He cleared his throat and looked across the table at his daughter.

 

            “Sweetheart, I’m afraid I don’t understand what you’re getting at.”

 

            “Dad, I’m talking about Vince. First, I saw the way you looked at his twin last night before you knew who he was. And then today…”

 

            “I was merely caught off guard. I mean, the man blames me for that nasty business of him nearly getting killed, rightly, of course,” he added. “But I think you must be imagining things if you think that I…” he trailed off.

 

            “Whatever you say,” Jamie said skeptically. “Just don’t try to have him killed,” _again_ , she added silently, remembering the assassins her father had previously used.

 

~VF~

 

 

            It was stupid, Vince knew, to don the costume and go traipsing across the rooftops of Starling City when his career prospects hinged on his supposed anti-vigilante attitude. Doubly stupid, considering the tales of Starling’s own vigilante, who might not be interested in making a newcomer feel welcome. But he couldn’t help himself.

 

            The one constant he’d held onto while his life had gone through one upheaval after another was that _Peter Fleming could not be trusted_. Once upon a time, Vince had relied on Orwell to keep an eye on the villain and let him know what nefarious schemes he was up to. And no wonder she hadn’t told him the truth; if he had known, would he have trusted her to report on her father?

 

            It was a moot point now, as she’d evidently taken it into her head to forgive her father his trespasses. He didn’t have her knack for hacking, or else he’d have changed her old blog to read: ‘Orwell is NOT Watching.’

 

            Yes, he was bitter about it.

 

            Why wouldn’t he be? Orwell had just as much a hand in getting him ‘killed’ as her father had, when you came down to it. He’d never held it against her because she had always been on his side, not her father’s. Now that he’d lost her as an ally against Chess… He’d just have to carry on his crusade without his partner.

 

            And so he leaped onto another roof, still on the lookout for his enemy, more eager than he’d like to admit for a confrontation.

 

            The one he got that night wasn’t what he’d had in mind.

 

~PF~

 

            It had rained briefly during the afternoon. The night sky was clear, but puddles had remained. The billionaire trying to navigate between them was alone in the hotel parking lot—or so he thought. A hooded figure above Peter caught his attention and it wasn’t the one he was accustomed to seeing. The vigilante dropped to the ground a few yards in front of him before speaking.

 

            “Peter Fleming, you have failed this city.”

 

            An arrow was fitted to a bow and aimed.

 

            Before it could be released, a midnight blue cape wrapped around the bow and plucked it out of gloved hands, leaving both the Hood and his target temporarily stunned.

 

            “You must be the Hood,” the Cape rasped.

 

            “Who are you—” Queen started to ask, before he was interrupted.

 

            “Did you just save my life, _again_?” Fleming called out.

 

            “You’re welcome,” the masked man spat. “Don’t rub it in.” He wasn’t entirely sure why he was doing this. He no longer needed to keep the villain alive in order to clear his name. It must be that he knew Jamie would want her father alive, he told himself. Besides which—

 

            “What makes you think you have the right to play judge, jury and executioner?” the Palm City vigilante asked the archer.

 

            “I’m carrying out my mission,” Oliver rasped back. “Don’t interfere. I need to bring Fleming to justice.”

 

            Peter looked between the two vigilantes and shook his head. _First Faraday has a doppelganger, now the Cape?_ Well, that was an exaggeration, but there were some similarities between the two costumes, chief among them that both of the young men had hoods pulled up over their faces. On the other hand, if you were concerned about materials, the Hood evidently shared Chess’ preference for leather rather than the Cape’s for silk.

 

            “Sorry, but I’ve got dibs on that. Leave him to me,” Faraday demanded, the blue eyes behind the black mask gleaming.

 

            “I can’t do that,” the Hood stated.

 

            “Have it your way then,” the Cape answered.

 

            Next thing Peter knew, the others were locked in hand-to-hand combat. He saw the Cape use the Hood’s bow against him—not by firing an arrow, but by trying to bludgeon him with it. The Hood managed to get in a few good punches for his part, but the Cape kicked his legs out from under him, and the emerald archer lost his balance on the wet ground. The Cape took advantage of this; dropping the bow, he lifted the Hood upside down…

 

            Then he froze; he blinked, staring down at his opponent. He barely registered Fleming approaching them in his peripheral vision.

 

            “Is that…?” Vince began.

 

            “Oliver Queen?” Fleming was incredulous. Now that his namesake had fallen back, the Hood’s features were easily discernible, leaving no question of his identity. He wore no mask over his face, merely some green greasepaint about his eyes. Perhaps, when wearing the hood, the paint underneath helped to accentuate shadows, but it was currently doing the young billionaire no favors.

 

            Queen thrashed, trying to attack the Cape, succeeding only in getting dropped. He righted himself, facing the bewildered out-of-towners. He held his now recovered weapon at his side.

 

            “Queen,” Fleming repeated. “That explains why I’ve been attacked within thirty-six hours of coming to this city, but neither the Queens nor the Merlyns have had a visit from the infamous Hood.”

 

            “It’s not like that,” Oliver scowled. “I’m not playing favorites; I visit those who deserve it.”

 

            “Sure you do,” the Cape rolled his eyes. It wasn’t that he didn’t think Peter had had it coming, but Vince wouldn’t expect the friends and family of the Queen Consolidated heir to be amongst the man’s victims. “What are you thinking, going around without wearing a mask? Did it never occur to you that hoods fall down?” ‘You idiot’ was implied.

 

            In the beginning of his career as the Cape, Vince had made the same mistake (only he hadn’t bothered with greasepaint.) But he’d wizened up and fashioned a mask out of an old leather pilot helmet in time to save his secret. When he thought about the night his hood had slipped off while Fleming held him underneath a runaway train, he was grateful he’d taken the precaution. He still remembered feeling the engineer’s eyes roving his face and hair, as the madman tried to puzzle out who was underneath the mask.

 

            Meanwhile, Queen was doing his own reminiscing about his time on the island and one of the lessons he’d been taught there.

 

            “What occurred to me,” Queen replied, “was that a mask doesn’t hide your eyes. Once you’ve revealed those, you’re finished.”

 

            The Cape swallowed nervously. Queen might not have recognized him, but Fleming had stared him down so many times… What if he did figure it out one of these days?

 

            “Bet you’re sorry you made fun of my contacts now,” Fleming teased him, confusing Queen. Chess’ contacts concealed his eyes alright, but the Cape considered the pupils shaped as chess pieces further proof of the man’s mental illness.

 

            “What contacts?” Oliver asked, showing the others he didn’t know Chess’ secret identity.

 

            “You don’t know,” the Cape shook his head. “If you don’t know, why were you trying to kill him?” Before he’d learned Fleming’s secret, he’d thought he was a decent man. Hell, he’d been on the verge of working for him.

 

            “I wasn’t trying to kill him!” Queen protested. “The arrows were just to ensure his cooperation.”

 

            “Translation: He was going to assault me, threaten me, and commit extortion,” Peter explained for his hero’s benefit. “He doesn’t kill royalty; he only slaughters pawns.” He turned towards Oliver. “Your targets’ bodyguards, thugs if you prefer, they’re the disposable ones, correct?”

 

            “Fuck you,” Queen spat. “You read a few headlines and you think you know who I am? I am trying to save this city—”

 

            The sound of police sirens approaching interrupted Queen’s holier-than-thou spiel. The Cape took the opportunity to throw a smoke pellet. When the smoke cleared, he and Fleming were gone.

 

            Oliver decided not to stick around to see where Starling City’s finest were headed. He replaced the hood back over his face and went back to his hideout.

 

~VF~

 

 

            Up in Fleming’s hotel room, Vince released the older man’s arm.

 

            “Ever my hero,” Peter purred.

 

            “Ever the ungrateful jackass,” the Cape snapped. “If Queen doesn’t know who you are, why is he after you?”

 

            “Perhaps I fit the profile of his victims,” Fleming shrugged. “Worried about me?” he leered.

 

            “In your dreams,” the Cape approached the window, assessed the drop from that height, and decided not to push his luck for the evening. Using the cape and another smoke bomb to dramatize his exit, he headed for the stairs. As he headed for the lobby, he made a mental note to give Jamie a call. If anyone could find out what the Hood was up to, it was her.

 

 

~QL~

 

 

_Meanwhile:_

 

            In a far less affluent part of the city, Quentin Lance stepped into the room where Adam Hunt had met his end. The former billionaire had been one of the Hood’s first targets when the vigilante had made his debut appearance months ago. Tonight he’d been taken out with a single arrow, calling to mind a certain someone’s M.O.

 

            But it didn’t fit. For starters, the arrow wasn’t the right color. It was black instead of green. And the Hood’s pattern was to back off after he got the funds from his victims, most of the guys he killed were ones that stood in between him and the ones he was really after. That meant only one thing.

 

            Lance’s report would state that they had a copycat on their hands. _Just perfect_. As if the original wasn’t enough of a headache, there was now another person to track down. If, as the detective suspected, another archer had taken it into his mind to frame the Hood for additional murders, there were going to be more bodies cropping up with black arrows in them.

 

            Everyone the Hood had ever confronted was now in danger.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So as you can see, the fic is currently set in an AU of “Year’s End,” although it’s not around the holidays in the story.
> 
> Chapter title is from Green Day’s “21 Guns.”


	4. Stop to Think About It

                “I guess I should have knocked,” Vince choked out the next day. Once again he had surprised Jamie by turning up at her office, but this time she wasn’t alone. He had walked in on her kissing with Ian. For a moment, he supposed he should be grateful that they were both clothed, but then dismissed the thought. Surely they would exercise restraint in her office.

 

                “Hey bro, long time, no see.” Ian greeted him after pulling away from his girlfriend.

 

                “Yeah, uh, it’s good to see you again, Ian. You’re looking—” _satisfied_ , “—well,” Vince replied.

 

                “And yet you look like the notion of two people making out is foreign and—”

 

                “You wanted to see me, Vince?” Jamie interjected, only her upbringing saving her cheeks from going scarlet.

 

                “Yes, could we talk for a minute? It’s about your father.”

 

                “The guy with the crush on you,” Ian grinned. “What?” he continued, seeing the horrified look on his twin’s face. “It’s totally obvious.”

 

                “Can we have some privacy, _please_ ,” Vince implored him.

 

                “Your embarrassment is so adorable. Alright,” he held up his hands. “Alright, I’m leaving. We can catch up later. But I want you to know, I’m hurt that you won’t discuss your love life with your own brother.” He closed the door behind him before the other blonde* could yell at him.

 

                “First time I’ve seen him in years and no, ‘hey, sorry to hear about your divorce!’ Or ‘hey, so glad you didn’t die in an explosion,’” Vince grumbled.

 

                “What’s this about, Vince?” Jamie asked.

 

                “Okay, firstly, I’m sorry I didn’t call first,” _very, very sorry._

 

                “Apology accepted. What did Dad do this time?”

 

                “He’s fine now, but he was attacked last night by the ‘Hood.’”

 

                “And you’re just telling me now?”

 

                “I thought it might be best to tell you in person. Your father’s fine,” he repeated, since she looked worried. “I saved him, but this guy may try again.”

 

                “Do you have anything we could use to track him down?” Orwell asked, fury beginning to overpower her fear. “Did you get a good look at him?”

 

                “Oh, I got a good look at him alright. He wasn’t wearing a mask. It’s Oliver Queen.”

 

                “Oliver Queen?” Jamie repeated. She stared at him, trying to digest the revelation.

 

                “I know,” he anticipated her next sentence, “he’s too prominent. We can’t move on him without evidence. Right now I want to know why he’s after your father. Can you hack into Queen Consolidated’s computers?”

 

                “I’m on it,” she said, barely letting her partner finish the question. She frowned at something that appeared on the screen. “Vince, did you see this? It says that the Hood killed Adam Hunt last night.”

 

                Vince approached the computer and read the article over her shoulder.

 

                “That couldn’t have been him. We were fighting Queen at the time Hunt died,” Faraday pointed out.

 

                “Well someone’s gone to a lot of effort to frame Queen’s alter ego,” Jamie shivered. “If he doesn’t stop there, if he’s going to keep hunting Queen’s victims—”

 

                “Then Peter has another threat to watch out for,” Vince grimaced. “See what you can find out.”

 

 

~OQ~

 

 

                Diggle found Oliver in the lair and turned on the news.

 

                “You need to see this,” he gestured towards the screen. The lead story was that the Hood had murdered Adam Hunt the night before.

 

                “I thought the Hood was paying Fleming a visit last night,” Diggle remarked as he turned off the volume.

 

                “He did. That wasn’t me,” Oliver said quietly, indicating the recent death.

 

                “I believe you. But it doesn’t look that way to the rest of the city,” John warned him.

 

                “Just what I needed today,” the billionaire grumbled.

 

                “How did things go last night?” Diggle asked.

 

                “Badly; there’s another vigilante in town. He interfered. Fleming doesn’t seem to be remotely intimidated by me—”

 

                “Another vigilante,” Diggle interrupted him. “Do you think this is the guy that’s trying to frame you?”

 

                “I doubt it,” Queen shook his head. “He could no sooner be in two places at once than I could.  Not that I think he’d back me up on the alibi,” he sighed. “There’s more.  Whoever this guy is, he and Fleming know who I am.”

 

                “WHAT DO YOU MEAN?!” Diggle yelled.

 

                “Apparently I should give the mask thing some more consideration, but what’s done is done.”

 

                Diggle cursed. He looked towards the staircase leading up to what would soon be Oliver’s nightclub, as if expecting Detective Lance to come barging down with a half dozen men, all with guns drawn.

 

                “They don’t know you’re involved,” the younger man continued calmly.  “Even if they tried to turn me in, which they don’t seem inclined to, I will do whatever is necessary to keep you out of this. You have my word.”

 

                “I still don’t like this. They have the advantage over you. You didn’t catch this guy’s name?”

 

                “For all I know, he’s also known as the Hood,” Oliver replied.

 

                “He can’t have that handle; it’s taken,” Diggle managed to smile.

 

                “It’s _lame_ ; I should pay him to take it from me,” the blonde joked.

 

                “What are you going to do now?” John asked, turning serious.

 

                “I need help,” he sighed. “I need to know more about all of this.  I wish I could just talk to Lance.  He’s probably going to be investigating these other vigilantes anyway.  Hell, I bet he’s already been assigned to the Hunt case. If I could talk him into sharing his information with me…”

 

                “Good luck with that,” the bodyguard snorted. “Last time I checked, the only way you can have a conversation without you being arrested is if you’ve got him bent over the hood of his car.”

 

                Oliver wondered, idly, if he confided in Diggle a little too much.

 

                “You’ve got a point… But what if we weren’t talking face-to-face? What if he didn’t have an opportunity to shoot at me?”

 

                “What are you saying? The Hood is going to call Lance up on the phone for a chat?” the older man asked sarcastically.

 

                “Actually, I think that’s a good idea,” Oliver smiled.

 

 

~QL~

 

                “Detective Lance?” the messenger asked, standing by Quentin’s desk with a non-descript package.

 

                “That’s me.”

 

                “Package for you; sign here, please.”

 

                Quentin did. The messenger took off right after handing him the small box. Curious, Lance opened it up and found a new cell phone. There was no note.  He turned it on, and almost immediately it buzzed with an incoming call. The screen informed him that the caller’s number was blocked and asked if he would accept or deny the call.

 

                He should ignore it, he told himself. He had a pretty good idea of who would be on the other end of it, and had no desire to speak with him. Well, perhaps he would under the right circumstances—say, if the caller was behind bars. But he couldn’t imagine that the call would be productive. It would probably just raise his blood pressure…and somehow he still found himself answering.

 

                “Lance.”

 

                “ _Don’t try to trace this call_ ,” the modulated voice began. Quentin frowned. It wasn’t that the thought hadn’t occurred to him, it was just that he’d already known a trace would be pointless. The Hood could afford the technology needed to cover his tracks.

 

                “I’m hanging up now,” Quentin answered.

 

                “ _Wait_ ,” the Hood commanded. _“I assume_ _you’ve been assigned to the Hunt murder?”_

 

                “Not that it’s any of your business…”

 

                “ _It wasn’t me_.”

 

                “Great. I’ll just tell that to the superintendent when he asks. ” In fact, he already had told him that the night before, but the man hadn’t cared for his take on it.

 

                “ _If you can get me an arrow from the crime scene, I‘ll be able to track him down before he kills again_.”

 

                “You want me to give over evidence to a man I don’t trust, whose motives I don’t know? Gee, thanks, but I think I’ll pass.”

 

                “ _Call me when you’ve reconsidered. The number’s programmed in; and Lance?”_

 

                “What?”

 

                “ _There’s another vigilante in town, too.  We were starting to get acquainted at the time Hunt was being killed_.”

 

                “So your alibi is another person who won’t show his face or give his name; how helpful.”

 

                “ _I’m not telling you this because I need an alibi. I’m telling you because I don’t know who he is or if I can trust him. I wanted to give you a heads-up on this._ ”

 

                “And what do you expect in return?” Lance asked.

 

                “ _If you find out anything about him, let me know,_ ” the Hood finished, before cutting the connection.

 

                Quentin groaned and resisted the urge to drop his head onto his desk. This time yesterday he only had to worry about one vigilante. Now he had to keep track of three.

 

                He’d better get a damn promotion out of this.

 

 

~JF~

 

 

                “Find anything yet?” Vince asked.

 

                “Not yet,” Jamie shot back. So far she couldn’t find any files in Queen Consolidated’s computers mentioning her father, or anything that would be related to the Hood… “What the hell?” she asked suddenly.

 

                “What’s wrong?”

 

                “Somebody’s blocking me!  I just got locked out of their system!” she stared at the screen. No one was supposed to be able to stop Orwell.

 

                “Can you get past them?” Vince inquired.

 

                “Oh, I will,” Orwell rolled up her sleeves. “Just watch me.”

 

 

~MQ~

 

 

                “…not impressed with this Hood guy. Stealing from the rich to give to the poor is the Democrats’ job,”** Malcolm Merlyn, head of the Merlyn Group, spoke to a knot of party-goers at the Queen mansion.

 

                “But you have to take this menace seriously when you consider all of the people he’s murdered,” one of them began.

 

                Moira Queen approached the group.

 

                “Malcolm, may I have a word?”

 

                “Of course; if you’ll excuse me,” he said, extricating himself from the other guests so the two could speak in private.

 

                “Walter knows too much,” Moira blurted once they were alone. (Walter Steele, the current CEO of Queen Consolidated, was her second husband. They had married during Oliver’s time on the island.) “He’s asking too many questions and he,” she clenched her fists, “after Hunt was killed yesterday he went to go warn another member of the list that he might be in danger—someone who has not been targeted by the vigilante before and who would have no reason to worry if not for the list.”

 

                “You said Robert’s copy went down with the Queen’s Gambit,” Malcolm said.

 

                “It did—it _must_ have. Oliver knows nothing about it,” she insisted. Her son couldn’t know anything about the list because when he had first returned to Starling City, she had had him kidnapped and interrogated to make sure he didn’t know anything about the League’s business. That done, she could assure her colleagues that there was no reason for Oliver to suffer the same fate his father had.

 

                “And yet somehow Walter found a copy. Don’t worry about it, Moira. I’ll take care of this.”

 

                “What are you going to do?” she asked, worried. The last time Merlyn had taken care of something, Robert’s boat went down. She didn’t relish the idea of sacrificing another husband to the cause.

 

                “I’m going to kidnap Walter and have him kept out of the way until our work in Starling is complete. And you’re going to help me.”

 

                “I—”

 

                “You’re going to help me,” Malcolm repeated, “because if you don’t cooperate with me you’re going to be a widow, again.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Physically, Vince and his twin are about as blonde as Arrow’s Oliver Queen, which is to say, barely. 
> 
> **Line borrowed from Year’s End, of course.
> 
> It occurred to me that I should clarify the story’s title. “Black Bird” does not refer to the Black Canary. Rather, Black Bird refers to Scales’ nickname for the Cape. (Scales will not be appearing in the story.)
> 
> Chapter title is from Three Days Grace’s “I Hate Everything About You.”


	5. A Warrior Queen

            “You say you were assaulted by the Hood?” Quentin asked Peter Fleming. They were in the billionaire’s hotel suite.

 

            Lance tried to ignore the weight of a second phone in his pockets as he listened to the man’s report. He noted that Fleming was, inadvertently, confirming the Hood had an alibi for Adam Hunt’s murder.

 

            Peter was just preoccupied with ranting against this “green menace” who had threatened to shoot him. He said nothing, however, about the emerald archer’s secret identity. He didn’t expect the police to bring him satisfaction. The legal system would simply pit his word against Queen’s. No, this was just a formality; he was making a show of playing the aggrieved tourist.

 

            He would settle things with Queen privately.

 

            “And you didn’t give into his demands?” Quentin interrupted the British expatriate.

 

            “He didn’t get around to making any,” Fleming recalled.

 

            “Is that so? How’d you escape?” Lance asked.

 

            “My guardian angel swooped in,” Peter drawled. The detective waited for him to elaborate. He did not.

 

            “Mr. Fleming, you might not be in the habit of _giving_ reports to police officers, but let me remind you how this works. You dragged me from a murder investigation because you said you wanted to report an incident concerning the vigilante. Now are you going to quit wasting my time and start answering my questions?”

 

            “The Cape interceded on my behalf,” Fleming said, frowning in disapproval at the sergeant’s disrespectful manner. None of his subordinates at ARK would dare talk to him that way. But he wasn’t at ARK now and Lance didn’t work for him—pity.

 

            “The ‘Cape,’” Quentin repeated. That must be the guy the Hood had been talking about. “Tell me more about him.”

 

            “You’re not familiar with him? But then, he normally prowls around Palm City. Come to think of it, perhaps he followed me here. It would be so typical of him,” Fleming smiled.

 

            “Can you give me a description?” Quentin asked.

 

            “Rather hard to miss someone that goes around in a mask, tights, and a spider-silk cape, though I suppose the getup is so dark that it does blend into the shadows. I’d say he’s about my height; more or less my build; his eyes are a darker blue. He has this curly hair—wait. Do you mean to say you want to track down the man that _rescued_ me?” Fleming chuckled and shook his head. “Do yourself a favor; don’t waste your time. I’ve had men more motivated,” _and more skilled_ , “than you try. He excels at escaping…

 

            “And he’s not the one that bloody threatened to kill me with a bow and arrow, so could you focus?”

 

 

~FS~

 

 

            Felicity Smoak had rolled up her sleeves hours ago, after the assault against Queen Consolidated’s system began. The blonde*, hunched in front of her computer in the I.T. Department, had been busy fending off the attack since she’d discovered it.

 

            It irked her that the hacker had gotten inside their network in the first place. No, ‘irked’ might not be strong enough for this feeling; what was the word she was looking for?

 

            …Anyway, her pride was on the line. No one should be hacking Queen’s computers when Felicity was on the clock! She had promptly locked the marauder out of the system and had kept him out.

 

            Not that it had been easy. Whoever was behind this was good, very good. And also very determined; this wasn’t some idle kid with too much time on his hands and nothing better to do than cause mischief. This was professional work. Which begged the question: Who could want to get into Queen Consolidated’s computers this badly? And what did they hope to find?

 

            She should probably let Mr. Steele know about the digital attack, seeing as it was his company and his computers. He would want this investigated. And speaking of investigations, he might have found out more about that mysterious book he had brought her that had turned out to be written in invisible ink.

 

            Her adversary had apparently run out of steam, at least for the time being. Felicity wouldn’t be remotely surprised if the attacker was simply regrouping, preparing to come back again with renewed strength to hit harder than before. But there was a lull for now. The safeguards that Felicity had put up should hold long enough for her to pay a visit to the C.E.O.’s office.

 

            Like her, Walter kept long hours. She was pretty sure she’d find him at his desk and that he’d make time to speak with her.

 

        She was completely floored when she discovered that Walter wasn’t simply not at his office; he was _missing_.

 

 

~JF~

 

 

        “Vince, how could you let me fall asleep?!” Jamie all but shrieked.

 

        “You were exhausted,” Faraday replied. “You’ve been at it for hours. You need your rest.”

 

        “No, what I need is coffee,” Orwell retorted. Like hell she was going to rest before finding out why Queen was after her father! He wasn’t going to become another casualty.

 

        “I’m back in!” she exclaimed triumphantly.

 

        “Your adversary probably nodded off, too,” Vince suggested.

 

        “Their loss; my gain. Damn it!” she cursed.

 

        “What?” Vince asked.

 

        “I still can’t find anything to do with Dad.” Her fingers whirled over the keys, and then banged down in frustration. “Whatever Queen’s hiding isn’t in those computers.”

 

        “What did you expect, a computer file listing all of his targets?”

 

        “Hey, there could’ve been one! Dad keeps computer files on _his_ targets. You know that; you’ve seen some of them.”

 

        “Maybe Oliver Queen isn’t as arrogant as your father,” Vince suggested, earning himself a glare.

 

 

~TM~

 

 

        “Oliver, is everything okay?” Tommy Merlyn, Oliver’s long-time best friend and the manager of his nightclub-to-be asked the following morning. Oliver had entered the former Glades warehouse with a stormy expression on his face.

 

        “It’s Walter,” Queen replied. “We think he’s been kidnapped.”

 

        “Oh my god! Are you sure?”

 

        “No one’s seen him since the party last night. None of his clothes were packed. Mom’s called the police, but they’re really strict about not opening a missing person’s case until twenty-four hours have passed. Anything could happen to him in that time.”

 

        “Has there been a ransom demand?” Tommy asked.

 

        “No,” Oliver shook his head, “nothing so far.” They had no clues to go on, no way of contacting the kidnappers to arrange an exchange. “Maybe it’s not even about money,” the blonde mused as he started pacing.

 

        “Then what would it be?” the brunette asked.

 

        “I really wish I knew,” the billionaire sighed.

 

        “He means a lot to you, doesn’t he?”

 

        “Walter’s a good man.” Oliver stopped pacing. “He was a good friend to my dad, to all of us. And he’s family now. I can’t lose any more family, Tommy. I have to find him.”

 

        Oliver looked so serious. There was something about the way he spoke and held himself that kept Tommy from asking him how he intended to do that or suggesting he leave things to the police.

 

        Oliver had a way of convincing people that he could and would move mountains.

 

        “I’ll do anything I can to help,” his friend promised.

 

        “Thank you, Tommy. You’re a good friend.”

 

        “Even though I stole your girlfriend?” Tommy raised an eyebrow.

 

        “Well, for that, it’s pistols at dawn,” Oliver joked.

 

        Tommy and Laurel’s relationship had started getting serious after Oliver returned from the island. But Tommy feared that Oliver and Laurel still had chemistry together.

 

        “All kidding aside,” Oliver continued, “Laurel and I just weren’t meant to be. Some part of me knew that when I boarded the _Queen’s Gambit_ ,” _rather than go apartment-hunting with Laurel_ , he finished silently. “You know I’m happy for you.”

 

 

~MQ~

 

 

        _It’s going to be alright_ , Moira Queen kept repeating to herself. Malcolm had promised to bring Walter back safe and sound once the Undertaking was over.

 

        Dear god, the Undertaking. After over five years, it was almost complete. Malcolm was going to level the Glades, the Starling City neighborhood where his wife had been murdered. It was horrifying to think about, all of the people that would be killed, but what could she do? Malcolm had already murdered Robert; he wouldn’t hesitate to systematically kill the rest of her family if she didn’t play along. If that meant sacrificing the Glades…

 

        She clenched her fist and tried not to think about it. It was out of her control.

 

 

~QL~

 

 

        “Would you excuse me, Tommy? I have to take this,” Oliver said, as his phone buzzed.

 

        “Sure,” Tommy nodded. Oliver headed downstairs, as he answered Lance’s call.

 

        “Are you ready to help me, Detective?”

 

        “ _There was another murder last night_ ,” Quentin replied. “ _Same M.O. as Hunt’s; taken out with black arrows. You know how Hunt was the first guy you tangoed with? Guess who this victim was._

_“Someone is systematically going after the people you haven’t killed.”_

 

        “At least you don’t think it’s me,” Oliver replied.

 

        “ _Your story checked out. Although you left out a few details—like the fact that you were too busy shaking down Peter Fleming to have killed Hunt. Fleming’s filed a complaint against you, by the way. We’ll have to add it to the charges.”_

 

        “Fleming’s—” Oliver swallowed. Fleming knew who he was. And he was talking to the police; crap. “What exactly did Fleming tell you about me?”

 

        _“Nothing I didn’t already know. Why, is he holding out on me? I’ll be honest; I’m not very fond of this guy. I wouldn’t mind seeing him up for obstruction of justice._

_“You know what I would mind? Seeing him wind up dead because of you. Because it’s not enough that you’ve left a trail of bodies in_ your _wake_ —”

 

        “Detective, don’t exaggerate. I only kill when the situation calls for it.”

 

        “ _Oh, yeah? Do you know how many people you’ve killed? Because I do—_ “

 

        No, Oliver thought, Lance didn’t know. He didn’t know that Oliver had killed on the island, too.

 

        “ _Eleven so far in the less than three months since you came to Starling City. Don’t tell me the situation calls for it each time. You know when a situation calls for deadly force? When you’re **faced** with deadly force; when it’s the only way to save—“_

 

        “If you only called to lecture me, I’m hanging up.”

 

        “ _Damn it! I called because I want this copycat caught before he kills again. There’s a chute that faces the alley along…_ ”

 

 

~OQ~

 

        An hour and a quarter later, Oliver strolled into Felicity Smoak’s office in I.T. with a black arrow in tow. He started rattling off some ridiculous story about wanting to surprise a friend with custom made arrows before he took in her appearance.

 

        “Felicity, what’s wrong?” Oliver demanded.

 

        “‘What’s wrong?’” she repeated, blinking. “Walter’s missing!” Surely as Walter’s stepson, Oliver should’ve known that already. “That’s pretty majorly wrong. Not to mention that our network was compromised yesterday; I held off the hacker for as long as I could, but then when I went to Walter’s office to let him know about the attack—I was only away from I.T. for ten minutes or so, which shouldn’t have been nearly enough time to breach our security, but apparently it was—“

 

        “Felicity, take a breath,” Oliver instructed the bespectacled young woman. “Now slow down and try again.”

 

        “We were hacked yesterday. I don’t know if it has anything to do with Walter’s disappearance or if the timing was a coincidence.”

 

        “Were you able to trace the attack?” Oliver asked.

 

        Felicity nodded.

 

        “It took me awhile, the signal was routed through so many…and you don’t care about the details, right. The attack originated from ARK Corporation.”

 

        “ARK, that’s the Flemings’ company, isn’t it?”

 

        “That’s right,” Felicity confirmed.

 

        Oliver’s mind raced. Fleming was clearly pissed about the Hood’s visit. Was he pissed enough to kidnap Walter in retaliation?

 

        “Should I tell the police about this?” she inquired.

 

        “No, I mean not yet, anyway. Even if the events are connected, Missing Persons still won’t listen to us before tonight,” he replied.

 

        “Of course; oh, what was it you wanted to see me about? Was there another computer accident at your favorite café**?”

 

        Oliver recalled the arrow he was carrying.

 

        “No, I’m here because I was hoping you could track down where this was made,” he said, holding the evidence out to her. “A friend’s birthday is coming up and he’s very particular about what arrows he uses.”

 

**Footnotes:**

***Bottle blonde, really; but we’ve already stretched the term blonde, so who cares?**

****To those who aren’t fans of _Arrow_ , Felicity is referring to the time Oliver presented her with a laptop sporting a few bullet holes, yet claimed it was malfunctioning because he’d spilled coffee on it. When prompted, he explained the bullet holes were there because the café he frequents “is in a bad neighborhood.”**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title from Lady Gaga’s “Marry the Night.”
> 
> I’m going to try to briefly address one reader's concerns here: By all means, let’s say Moira acted under duress. This does not change the fact that she was in on the kidnapping conspiracy as well as the Undertaking.
> 
> As for whether the Cape could take the Hood in a fight, Vince is badass, but more importantly, what is truly implausible is the gravity-defying!hood that is supposed to have protected Oliver’s secret for as long as it did.
> 
> By show of comments, did anyone see that coming in the season finale?


	6. Frustrated Fears

            “How did it go?” Diggle asked, as Oliver entered the hideout hours later.

 

            “It was a trap,” the billionaire sighed. “I should have known it would be. Felicity traced the arrow to that warehouse way too easily.”

 

            “So you’re at a dead end?” John asked. Oliver nodded.

 

            “Which means the ball is in his court. There’s nothing I can do now until this other archer makes his next move.”

 

            “Given what he’s done so far, his next move is probably going to be to frame you for another murder,” Diggle frowned. “There has to be something we can do to prevent that.”

 

            “Believe me, I’m open to suggestions,” the vigilante replied. He glanced down at his phone. “In the meantime, I think I owe someone an update.”

 

 

* * *

 

            Quentin started to reach for his regular cell phone before realizing that it was his new phone that was vibrating. Oh… he hadn’t been expecting another call, not when the Hood had already gotten what he wanted from him.

 

            “What is it now?” he answered the phone.

 

            _“Hello to you, too, Detective. I thought I’d keep you informed of my progress_.”

 

            Come again? It’s not like he held any authority over the vigilante, who thought he was above the law.

 

            “Did you make any?” Quentin said aloud.

 

            _“I traced the black arrow to a warehouse._ ”

 

            “Where is it? Give me the address,” the cop demanded.

 

            _“It was a trap. If there was any evidence to find before, it’s gone now. Our copycat blew the place up._ ”

 

            “That means—you were almost killed today, weren’t you?” Quentin asked. His heart did **not** lurch at that. It was indigestion; he really needed to cut down on all those greasy foods.

 

            _“That’s part of my job description_ ,” the Hood answered him.

 

            “Job,” Lance snorted. “No, see, a job is something that you’re hired to do. What you’ve done is anointed yourself as the fucking Lone Ranger.”

 

            “ _You’re not_ worried _about me, are you, Detective?”_

“Don’t be ridiculous! By the way, you have until the end of the week to find this son of a bitch. After that, I’ll content myself with hauling your ass off to jail,” with that, he ended the call and put the phone down on his desk.

 

            Him worried about the Hood, what an absurd notion. Why, because this other archer had tried to kill him? Maybe he’d come close to succeeding. Okay, that just meant that when they did catch this guy, they could add an attempted murder charge to the growing list, that’s all.

 

            He blinked down at the two halves of a pencil in his hands, wondering how he’d snapped it without knowing he’d even picked it up.

 

            Alright, so he didn’t want the Hood dead. Big deal; he still wanted to bring the Hood to justice. Arresting criminals was part of his job description.

 

 

* * *

 

            “I don’t know why I let you talk me into these things,” the Cape grumbled as he skulked through the corridors of Queen Consolidated that evening. “I’m supposed to be going for a second interview at the Starling Police Department tomorrow. I can’t keep pretending to be anti-vigilante by day and go around in a cape and tights at night!”

 

            _“If you want to stop wearing the cape when this is over, that’s up to you Vince,”_ Orwell’s voice came over his earpiece. _“But first I need you to find out what Queen’s after.”_

 

            “This just better not end the same way as the night I broke in to go through your father’s computer,” Vince muttered. Being poisoned and falling from a penthouse window in quick succession was not an experience he wanted to repeat, ever.

 

            “ _Turn left_ ,” Jamie instructed him, ignoring his complaints.

 

            “There’s something I don’t understand. You couldn’t find anything on their computers when you hacked in earlier. Why would I find something you missed?”

 

            “ _You can’t be too thorough. The I.T. Department should be straight ahead_.”

 

            “Uh, Orwell, we’ve got a problem.”

 

            “ _What’s that_?”

 

            “There’s someone in there,” the Cape whispered, after sneaking a peek inside. Curse computer nerds and the strange hours they kept; everyone should have gone home for the night.

 

            “ _Then knock them out! Geez, Vince, we’re talking about a computer nerd, how much of a threat could he be?_ ”

 

            “She,” Vince corrected. He didn’t exactly have a strict no-fighting women policy.* He just doubted that the petite blonde he’d glimpsed was engaged in anything nefarious. Just seeing him would probably give the poor thing a heart attack.  

 

            Felicity must have sensed she wasn’t alone because she got up from her desk and started making her way cautiously towards the door.

 

            “Is someone there?” the blonde called out, trying to keep the nervousness from her voice. No reason to be paranoid just because all of her co-workers had left a while ago and the place seemed a little desolate at night. It was probably Oliver. Or who knew? It could be Mr. Steele; perhaps he’d already been found and wanted to let her know he was okay. _Yeah, right._

 

            “I’m out of here,” Vince muttered to his old partner.

 

            “ _The hell you are! Get your ass in there and find out what she knows!”_

 

            “Knows? Like she would even know that her boss is the Hood!” the Cape exclaimed just as the door opened to reveal a very confused tech support person.

 

            Outwardly, at least, Felicity regained her composure pretty quickly.

 

            “That actually would explain why he asked me about custom-made arrows earlier…and the bullet holes in that laptop…and why I had to analyze the components of what had to be Vertigo,” she shook her head, as if to clear it. “You wouldn’t be the guy that was hacking into our computers by any chance, would you?”

 

            “ _Oh for god’s sake_ …”

 

            The computer screen behind them flickered, before the all-seeing eye came on.

 

            “ _No,_ ” Orwell’s modulated voice came through the speakers, “ _that would be me._ ”

 

            “You’re Orwell,” Felicity approached the computer, recognizing the symbol from the infamous blog. Orwell’s technology skills were legendary. No wonder he’d gotten into their system. “I don’t understand. Since when are you working for ARK? I thought you and ARK were enemies.”

 

            “ _Who said anything about working for ARK?”_  The voice modulation didn’t translate uneasiness, but it was clear the blogger had been caught off guard.

 

            “I traced your IP address back to ARK’s offices. It wasn’t that hard to do,” Felicity started to cross her arms, then remembered that the person she was speaking to couldn’t see her…could he? God, there was a creepy thought.

 

            “Maybe it’s time we laid our cards on the table,” the Cape suggested, startling the blonde, who had almost forgotten the intruder was there.

 

            The computer screen flickered. Jamie’s voice came through Vince’s earpiece once more.

 

            “ _You CAN’T be planning on telling her who we are. Oliver Queen didn’t even trust her enough to tell her his secret and it looks like he’s been using her for his missions!_ ”

 

            “She already traced you back to ARK,” Vince replied. “How much longer before she makes the leap from that to--?”

 

            “Wait, wait a second!” Felicity threw a hand up. “You are not trying to say that Orwell is a Fleming. That makes zero sense.” Peter Fleming wouldn’t have sabotaged his own reputation. That left his daughter, but no, that couldn’t be. Surely no one could hate their own father that much?

 

            “ _We’re wasting time!”_ the distorted voice echoed through the room once more. “ _What does your boss want with Peter Fleming_?”

 

            “Oh my god, you are his daughter, aren’t you?” Felicity asked. The timing fit. Orwell’s blog had gone silent suspiciously close to the time that Fleming’s daughter had come to Starling City. “You’re Jamie Fleming.”

 

            There was a lengthy pause during which the I.T. girl began to wonder if the blogger had logged off. Then the eye vanished to be replaced with a video chat, revealing a pale brunette in a red dress, legs crossed at the knee. The heir to ARK Corporation crossed her arms, brown eyes looking balefully at the screen.

 

            _“Alright, I’ll rephrase. What does your boss want with my father?”_

 

            “I don’t know,” Felicity swallowed, looking between the ice-cold woman’s visage and the masked (and probably very strong) man standing very close to her. “That’s the truth. Until now I had no idea he was even the Hood! …Holy shit, I’ve been helping a murderer. Oh crap. Does that make me an accessory? Can you be an accessory without knowing the person you’re helping is a killer?” she started to babble. “I don’t think I’d look good in orange, or whatever color it is the uniforms are—” She jumped as she felt a hand land on her shoulder.

 

            “Take it easy,” the Cape rasped, before releasing her. Concluding that his continued presence was not going to keep her from being hysterical, he turned to go.

 

            “WAIT!” Felicity called after him. He turned and stopped, looking at her. “You’re the Cape, right? I mean, if your partner there was Orwell, and you’re wearing that then you’d have to be the Cape—I’m babbling again, sorry. Just, you’re not like O—the Hood. You’re actually a hero. I think I need your help. My boss—not Mr. Queen—Walter Steele, he’s gone missing. He may have been kidnapped. I thought at first it had something to do with our being hacked, but if that was your friend behind that, then she wouldn’t have had anything to do with kidnapping Walter.” ARK Corporation might have painted Orwell as a cyber-terrorist in the press, but Felicity didn’t buy that. “Can you find him?”

 

            “I’ll try,” he assured her in the same rasp, before swirling his cloak and disappearing before she could say ‘thank you.’

 

            Felicity heard the sound of a throat being cleared behind her.

 

            “ _And I’ll see what I can do, but in exchange I want your help in finding out why Queen’s targeting my father. What time did Steele disappear?”_

 

 

* * *

 

            “What are you brooding about?” Laurel Lance asked Tommy as she drove him to work in the morning.

 

            “I was just thinking,” he started. He knew Oliver had told him that he was over Laurel, but Tommy wasn’t feeling very reassured. It would help if he had proof that his friend had truly moved on. “We should find a girl for Oliver.”

 

            “Are you serious?” Laurel asked.

 

            “Think about it—the guy hasn’t been in a stable relationship since…before he was shipwrecked.”

 

            “Think part of that might be because he’s bad at relationships? Honestly, I’m more worried about my dad. I don’t think he’s seen anyone since the divorce.”

 

            “But Oliver was the one that went five whole years without sex,” Tommy countered.

 

            “We’re assuming, and of course that would be the end of the world,” Laurel chuckled. “But if anyone needs someone to play matchmaker, it would be Dad.”

 

            “Too bad they don’t swing the other way. We could’ve handled two birds with one stone,” Tommy joked as they pulled to a stop in front of Verdant.

 

            Laurel doubled-over laughing at the thought.  

 

 

* * *

 

 

            “Mom, are you alright?” Oliver asked, sitting down beside his mother on the living room couch. He couldn’t remember her having been this distraught before, though, to be fair, he hadn’t been around when she’d been told the fate of the _Queen’s Gambit_.

 

            “I’m just worried about Walter,” she admitted, wishing she could remain strong.

 

            Oliver frowned. He’d been so distracted by this mysterious Dark Archer that he hadn’t even tried to find Walter yet. Not that he would know where to begin…

 

            …But Felicity thought Walter’s disappearance might be linked to the Flemings. Maybe it was a long shot, but he owed it to his stepfather to investigate the possibility. Even if Peter Fleming had nothing to do with this kidnapping, they were overdue for a chat.

*** He had had to deal with Dice. Although, come to think of it, he’d allowed Jamie to be the one to take the psychotic savant down…**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m baaack. Sorry for the delay, but you know how it is, especially when you’re writing other fics, and working, and never sit down and plan out fics. This is now the only WIP that I have, for a change. 
> 
> Thoughts on the new chapter? As I told one reader, I don’t currently have any plans for bringing in the Carnival of Crime. I don’t have anything against the gang, honest (except for Ruvi, who needs to shut up before Vince has to teach him a lesson), it’s just that I’m trying to work with enough elements at the moment without trying to figure out how to fit them in, too.
> 
> I know it’s been so long that the new season has started. And now Summer Glau is on the show, except her character is more like Fleming Junior instead of Orwell. Eh, just as well. I wouldn’t be predisposed to like any character that would dare to challenge Quiver. (Well, maybe I’ll make exceptions for Laurel and Felicity.)
> 
> The new character is not going to pop up in this fic, though there is a ready made explanation for the doppelganger courtesy of Dragomir. You can ask D or yours truly if you like. All I’ll say is: “Deveraux’s genes.” 
> 
> Chapter title is from Pink’s “Just Like a Pill.”


	7. Never Want to See You Unhappy

            “Mrs. Faraday?” Laurel caught Dana Faraday banging her head against the wall near the elevator of CNRI.

 

            “I’m sorry, I just. I can’t believe how stupid I sounded during that interview,” Dana said when she had finally stopped hitting her head. The disaster of an interview had ended minutes before. “I should have given you more details when answering those questions about your hypothetical—in fact, I could probably give them to you now.” Why had her mind gone blank when it had counted?

 

            “Oh, that’s really not necessary,” Laurel said. “And the interview wasn’t _that_ bad.”

 

            “Are you kidding me? I couldn’t even tell you the name of the head of CNRI, god. Don’t pretend that you’re considering me for the job,” Dana looked the other attorney in the eyes.

 

            “Okay, it was a pretty crappy interview,” Laurel conceded. “But you said you were happy at the Palm City Public Defenders!”

 

            “Yes, I am, but my boyfriend is moving to Starling and, hang on,” Dana checked her phone. She’d just received a text message from Vince. “ _Shit_ and my ex-husband just got hired by the Starling City Police Department! We have joint custody of our son,” Dana added.

 

            “Oh… _oh_ ,” Laurel frowned as she realized the older woman’s predicament. “Look, I’m sure you’re a great attorney and you just froze up earlier, but I’m sorry. There’s nothing I can do.”

 

* * *

 

            “I think this is what got Mr. Steele kidnapped,” Felicity announced as she handed a slim brown-covered volume to the brunette. The blonde had gone to Jamie Fleming’s office in search of assistance.

 

            “What makes you say that?” Jamie asked, as she began inspecting the journal, noting the symbol on the cover that she couldn’t quite place before opening it up.

 

            “He came to me for help in deciphering it—turned out the writer had used invisible ink.” They had since held the pages to a heat source so they wouldn’t need to wear special goggles each time they wanted to read it.* “Walter warned me that getting involved might be dangerous; he didn’t say why, but within a couple of days, he gets kidnapped. There’s no way that’s a coincidence.”

 

            “Probably not,” Orwell conceded. “So we have a list of names that…wait a second. Where did you say Steele found this?”

 

            “I don’t know…somewhere in the Queen Mansion, maybe? Why?”

 

            The blogger flipped back to the page that had caught her eye. There at the bottom was the name _Peter Fleming_.

 

            She hadn’t found any insight into the Hood’s vendetta against her father on Queen Consolidated’s computers because the data she was looking for was never entered into a computer. It was here, right in front of her.

 

            “Because,” she said aloud, “I think this list is property of the Hood.”

 

            “No,” Felicity shook her head, following the other’s train of thought. “No, something’s wrong.”

 

            “Felicity—”

 

            “No, listen to me! I know Oliver’s been keeping secrets from me. I know you told me that he’s a killer, but you have to trust me when I tell you that he would never do anything to hurt his stepfather. There has to be some mistake!”

 

            “If that’s the case, then there’s no harm in asking Mr. Queen,” Orwell folded her arms.

 

* * *

 

            “Ladies, not that it isn’t lovely to see you, but I came here to see Peter Fleming,” Oliver Queen said, as he took a seat opposite the two women at the conference room table. “What’s going on? Felicity, why are you here?”

 

            For once, Felicity’s words had dried up. She glared down at the table, as if it had done her a personal wrong.

 

            “My father will be here later,” Jamie put in.

 

            “Felicity, what’s wrong?” Oliver demanded.

 

            “Don’t talk to her,” the blogger snapped, knowing he was only aggravating her newfound friend.

 

            “Excuse me—she works for my company,” Queen retorted.

 

            “It’s hardly your company. You don’t work there,” Jamie pointed out. “Besides, she won’t be working for Queen Consolidated anymore. ARK made her an offer this morning. Looks like you’re down one I.T. specialist,” she jutted her chin out.

 

            “Is that true?” Oliver asked Felicity.

 

            “Yes,” she cleared her throat. “I mean, I haven’t accepted yet, but I’m tempted.”

 

            “Will someone please tell me what’s going on?” the vigilante demanded, getting irritated. “Have I offended you in some way? Is there a lawsuit I don’t know about? You got a process server hidden around here waiting to hand me a summons and complaint?”

 

            “Sorry I’m late,” Peter Fleming chose that moment to enter the conference room. “Have I missed anything?”

 

            “Only ARK poaching one of my employees; what’s going on?” Ollie repeated.

 

            “Why didn’t you tell me you were the Hood?” Felicity countered.

 

            Oliver closed his eyes for a moment. Of course; Fleming had told Felicity his secret. He should have figured that out for himself. Maybe he would have, except he didn’t see why Fleming had chosen her, of all people, to expose his charade to.

 

            “Really, Fleming, wouldn’t you have done more damage to me by going to the police?” he looked at the engineer. Hell, if the man’s game was to do damage to his personal life, there were still better targets. He could have gone to his mother or his sister or his best friend or his… well, he didn’t actually have a girlfriend at the moment… But, “why single out Ms. Smoak?”

 

            “I’m not responsible for her finding out. I’ve never met her before,” Peter narrowed his eyes, examining his daughter. Evidently the Hood’s secret identity was no revelation to her. How had she learned Queen’s secret when he hadn’t said a word to her?

 

            _Don’t ask, Peter_ , warned the voice in his head.

 

            “Does it matter how I found out?” Felicity asked. “I think you may have lost perspective at some point. You kill people!” she exclaimed. “You extort and you terrorize and the police are hunting you down. Your stepfather has gone missing and you don’t even _care_. Maybe you did kidnap him.”

 

            “What? I would never harm Walter!” Oliver was indignant; he didn’t know where that accusation had come from.

 

            Felicity nodded, believing him on that count.

 

            “So that’s where you draw the line. Those other things, the murder and the mayhem, that’s all okay.” She stood up. “I can’t be here for this.” She turned to Jamie. “If you find out anything about Mr. Steele, please let me know,” she said before heading towards the door.

 

            Queen rose to follow her. They needed to hash this out, preferably without an audience.

 

            “Not so fast, Queen,” Jamie called out. “I believe you and I have business to discuss.” Oliver ignored her, chasing after the bespectacled blonde.

 

            “How did you know Queen was the Hood?” Peter asked his daughter when they were alone.

 

            “A little bird told me,” she replied.

 

            “You’ve been speaking with the Cape?” he asked.

 

            “…Apparently _he_ thought I should know that someone tried to kill you the other night. By the way, were you planning on saying anything to me about that?” she demanded, letting anger seep into her voice.

 

            “He was unsuccessful and I’m quite alright. There didn’t seem to be any point in worrying you,” Peter replied. He wanted to ask her how long she had known the Cape, but Chess called to him.

 

            _Leave it be, Peter. We all have secrets._

 

* * *

 

            “Felicity!” Oliver caught up to her at the elevator. “Felicity, wait!”

 

            “Do you know I spent last night trying to get pictures of you in leather out of my head? …That didn’t come out right,” Felicity blushed, jamming her finger against the down button. _Hurry up._ Her feelings of betrayal weren’t helped any by clashing with her attraction to the billionaire.

 

            Luckily for her, Oliver had become adept at selective hearing.

 

            “Felicity, I can explain.”

 

            “I hope you can. I really do. But I can’t deal with this just now.” The elevator doors opened and she stepped in. “They’re waiting for you in there. If you want to prove that not everything you told me was a lie, maybe you should help them find Mr. Steele.”

 

* * *

 

            “Felicity was here because she wanted my help in locating your stepfather,” Jamie began as Oliver reluctantly resumed his seat. “I arranged this little get-together after I saw this,” she produced the list.

 

            “Where did you get that?” Oliver asked, his eyes widening. _It couldn’t be._ He’d left the list underneath Verdant, he was sure of it.

 

            “Felicity brought it over; told me that this is what got Walter into trouble. She didn’t want to believe me when I said that it had to be yours. This is your list of targets, isn’t it?” the young woman asked.

 

            “Wait a minute,” Peter spoke up before Oliver could start denying it. “Let me see that,” he held his hand out for the book. Jamie handed it over. “I’ve seen this before.”

 

            “What?” Oliver asked.

 

            “Where did you see it?” Jamie inquired.

 

            _Oh, sure, go ahead_ , Chess whispered in Peter’s mind. _By all means, tell them how you were planning a murder._ Peter shook his head.

 

            “I can’t.” He looked at his daughter. He couldn’t let her know what a monster he was. “Get a message to our mutual friend. Tell him I need to see him tonight.”

 

            “Dad,” Jamie bit her lip. She couldn’t tell her father she knew he was Chess, at least, not in front of Queen. “You know you can tell _me_ anything.” They could just tell the archer to leave.

 

            “I’m sorry, Jamie. I’ll tell him what I know this evening. That’s the best I can do,” he placed the book on the table before leaving.

 

            “Your dad doesn’t trust you much, does he?” Oliver remarked.

 

            “The last time I found out something about my dad that I didn’t like, I stopped speaking to him for eight years,” she replied, her tone flat. “Dad’s a lot of things, but paranoid isn’t one of them.”

 

* * *

 

            “Welcome to the S.C.P.D., Sergeant Faraday,” Quentin congratulated Vince.

 

            “Thank you, Detective Lance,” Vince beamed. This job was going to be perfect for him. And now he wouldn’t have to worry about Dana relocating Trip to Starling City because he’d be moving, too.

 

            “You’re going to be with me, on the task force investigating the Hood,” Quentin continued.

 

            “Uh, great,” Vince said, his smile somewhat dimmer. His job was now to hunt down the Hood, whom he knew was Oliver Queen. That was probably the sort of information he was expected to share with the other cop…

 

* * *

 

            Oliver barged into the yet-to-be-opened nightclub, his body wound up. He had gotten nothing out of his meeting at ARK Corporation other than knowledge that a certain I.T. specialist wasn’t talking to him and that the Flemings had come into possession of an exact duplicate of the list, which had apparently passed through Walter’s hands at one point. Peter Fleming was refusing to shed any light on the situation, despite obviously knowing _something_.

 

            This day was just not going well. He started to head towards the door that would lead him downstairs, when he found Tommy blocking his path. Oliver blinked. He’d forgotten that Tommy put in a lot of hours of work here.

 

            “Hey, Tommy,” he greeted his best friend.

 

            “Hey, Oliver; you alright?” he asked, noticing the other man seemed troubled.

 

            “I… Ask me later. Can I help you with something?”

 

            “I have someone that I would like you to meet,” Tommy replied.

 

            “What?”

 

            “You remember Ben, from high school? His sister, Maria, just moved back to Starling—”

 

            “Wait, Tommy, are you trying to set me up on a blind date?”

 

            “Guilty as charged,” Tommy shrugged, his smile showing that he didn’t feel the least bit guilty. “It’s all set, all you have to do is pick her up on Saturday night—”

 

            “Tommy,” Oliver sighed. “I appreciate the gesture, but I don’t think this is a good idea. My life is kind of hectic right now.”

 

            “Ollie,” Tommy shook his head. “Your life is always going to be busy and somewhat stressful. You don’t put off dating because of that. You carve out time for it, so that you have a nice, healthy balanced life. Otherwise one day you’ll snap and go on a homicidal killing spree.”

 

            “I think ‘homicidal killing spree’ is redundant,” Oliver snorted. He supposed he should try to find time for dating. For that matter, he should make more time for his friends. “Alright, I’m still not convinced that blind dates are the way to go, but since you already put in the effort…”

 

            “That’s the spirit!” Tommy grinned.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Don’t remember if they actually did in the show, but let’s assume it, ok?
> 
> Chapter title is from A Fine Frenzy’s “Almost Lover.” (If anyone’s worried, this fic is still going to be Quiver. I’m merely acknowledging that one-sided Olicity is canon.)


	8. Can’t Erase the Facts

            Night had fallen hours ago. Peter sensed the presence in his hotel room before he saw the figure standing by the curtains. He turned away from the computer screen and stood up to greet the vigilante.

 

            “Thank you for coming.”

 

            “You had something you wanted to tell me?” the Cape rasped, his hood and mask conspiring to conceal his face.

 

            “You mean besides telling you to stay away from my daughter?” Fleming quipped. Jamie had delivered the message that Peter wanted to see the Cape, which meant that he was right—she did have a means of contacting the hero. Who knew what the nature of their relationship was.

 

            But no, she was seeing that Ian fellow, so that ruled out certain possibilities.

 

            “Kidding,” Peter raised his hands in a ‘take-it-easy’ gesture. “It’s hardly as if either of you would listen to me.”

 

            “You’re taking this awfully well,” the younger man said, full of suspicion, “finding out that your daughter is in league with your sworn enemy,” he clarified.

 

            “She hasn’t stabbed me in the back yet,” Peter’s eyes sought out the other man’s, “though I suppose I would deserve it if she did.”

 

            “You’re not going to get any arguments here. You asked for this little rendezvous and I don’t think it was to shoot the breeze. Or,” he stopped, backtracked so as not to betray Orwell’s secret. “ _Jamie_ said there was something you knew about Queen’s list of targets. Ready to share with the class?”

 

            Peter turned away from him and stepped closer to the window before beginning.

 

            “It was about eight years ago. You know of course what happened—what I did to Henry Jerrod.”

 

            “One of Chess’ first documented murders,” Vince replied. Jerrod’s murder had been meant to pave the way for Peter to profit from the man’s research on little Tracey Jerrod. Fleming didn’t realize that his daughter knew about the murder, too.

 

            “Indeed; what you don’t know is that giving it a personal touch was not part of my original plan. I had, up to that point, done very little in the way of killing. My intention was to use a proxy.

 

            “This was before I’d discovered that the Tower and the other branches of Tarot were more than mere legend. But I had heard enough to spark my interest in another society—the League of Assassins.”

 

            “Never heard of it,” the Cape frowned.

 

            “And I suppose you had heard of Tarot before Cain’s poison was running through your veins?”

 

            “No,” Faraday admitted.

 

            “They’re called secret societies for a reason,” the billionaire drawled.

 

            “Yeah, I got that,” the blond crossed his arms. “So, League of Assassins—sounds like the obvious place to go to order a hit. Why’d you decide to do it yourself?”

 

            “It turned out my information was incomplete. I’d been looking for an independent contractor, if you will, someone who would do freelance work.”

 

            “You wanted to hire a hitman, right, so what was the problem, they wouldn’t play by your rules?”

 

            “Their organization has their own code, their own mission, along with a leader to answer to. Knocking off one PhD to further my already not inconsiderable wealth didn’t fit in with their plans, which was just as well, as I found I wasn’t particularly fond of their…culture, shall we say.”

 

            “What does this have to do with Queen’s hit-list?”

 

            “Don’t interrupt, dear.”

 

            Vince’s eyebrows shot way up at the term of endearment, though he doubted the psychopath could tell.

 

            “What did you just call me?”

 

            Peter mentally replayed his last words.

 

            “Did I say, ‘dear’? Must have been a slip of the tongue; as I was saying, they refused the job, we went our separate ways, the Palm City Police Department was befuddled by Jerrod’s murder and that should have been the end of it.

 

            “Six weeks after the homicide one of the League members came to pay me a little visit,” his jaw clenched at the memory. “The audacity that he had… He said that they were looking for more members. He wanted to recruit me.”

 

            The Cape studied the criminal’s face for a moment.

 

            “You told him to fuck off, didn’t you?”

 

            “I don’t believe I was quite so crude, but I did make my point, yes. Chess works alone. He told me I was making a mistake,” Peter made an impatient gesture. “I expect you can imagine the sort of rubbish. You must have heard your own share of inane speeches by now.”

 

            “I have; many of them from you. Where does the book come into this?”

 

            “You are aware that Jamie at age six was better at patiently sitting through a story than you are?” Peter sighed in exasperation.

 

            “Figures she’d be a weird kid,” Vince uncrossed his arms and waited for the other to get on with his explanation.

 

            “When he understood that I could not be persuaded to accept his offer, he produced the book you’re so anxious to hear about. It was a list, he said, not of members of the League of Assassins—they do have more intelligence than to put something so damning in writing, I’ll give them that—but of _tools_ ,” Fleming spat the word, “that the group found useful. To them, the men on the list were no more than pawns to be played to bring about the ruin of Starling City.

 

            “That’s their long-term strategy,” he continued. “Destroy a city financially and watch as the society descends into chaos.”

 

            “But if Starling was the target…”

 

            “He knew ARK was branching out into Starling,” Peter explained for the other’s benefit. “Perhaps the League was considering extending their influence to Palm City, as well, I don’t know. He wrote my name in the list, I told him to stop trespassing on my property and, as far as I know, I haven’t encountered any members of the society since.”

 

            The Cape tried to digest the information. He wondered how it fit into the larger picture; how the list had been appropriated by the Hood.

 

            “Do you know who he was, the agent that tried to recruit you?” he asked.

 

            “At the time, no, I was woefully out of touch with the who’s-who crowd of Starling. I have since identified him,” Peter walked away from the window and back to his computer. He turned the screen so that the photograph on the monitor was facing the hero.

 

            “His name was Robert Queen.”

 

            “ _Queen_ … You mean the Hood’s father?!”

 

            “The same, which explains how he obtained the book in the first place.”

 

            This was starting to give Vince a headache.

 

            “It doesn’t explain what he’s after. If his father was using these people then…” the Cape trailed off as a thought occurred to him. He knew someone else who had tried, in her own way, to make amends for her father’s sins. “No,” he shook his head.

 

            “What?” Fleming demanded.

 

            “My god, he thinks that what he’s been doing is balancing the scales!” he grimaced.

 

            “I take it you don’t approve?” the dark-haired man asked.

 

            “You said so yourself—the League was manipulating these people for its own agenda—and now the ones that Oliver Queen hasn’t knocked off are being picked off by some sociopath trying to get his attention. And we still don’t know who that is, but whoever it is—is going to be coming after you,” Faraday concluded.

 

            “Careful, you almost sound as if you care,” Peter mused, stepping into the other’s space. How tempting it was to reach up and remove the hood and… It was best not to lose himself in fantasy, though.

 

            “We do have something to go on, do we not?” If the CEO’s voice was a little deeper than normal, well, there was no harm in that. “The copycat is someone who knows the list. By process of elimination, Robert Queen is ruled out, but…”

 

            “His known associates,” the vigilante finished. “We find out who they were and we’ll find members of the League of Assassins.”

 

* * *

 

            Vince didn’t waste any time in going to tell Jamie what they knew. If anyone could follow the lead, it would be her.

 

            The feeling that he’d somehow betrayed the trust of goddamn Peter Fleming was completely illogical, he reminded himself. Jamie already knew about the blood on her father’s hands, after all.

 

            “We’re looking for someone connected to Robert Queen who isn’t on the list,” Orwell hummed, then got to work at the computer. “Since the list is what got Walter Steele kidnapped, the kidnapper is probably connected to the serial killer, heck there’s even a decent chance he _is_ the serial killer… Bingo.”

 

            “What bingo?” Vince asked, peering over her shoulder.

 

            “Within hours of the kidnapping, someone who was a close friend of Queen’s made a very substantial withdrawal from a bank account.”

 

            “Who was it?”

 

            “Malcolm Merlyn.”

 

* * *

 

            “Was it like _Survivor_?” Maria asked, referring to the five years the billionaire spent stuck on the island.

 

            Oliver stared at the voluptuous blonde that was his blind date for the evening as he tried to decide on an answer. That reality show had predated the shipwreck, but he couldn’t recall watching it. Not that it could possibly have compared to the hell he went through—

 

            He tamped down that thought before it could trigger another flashback.

 

            “Not really,” he said at last. “There were no hidden cameras, and no one to vote off the island,” he aimed for flippant. “But I don’t like talking about it. Tell me, how has,” _what was her brother’s name again?_ “Ben…been doing since high school?”

 

            “He’s been doing well. He went to med school and—”

 

            Oliver’s phone interrupted her sentence. He checked the caller ID—Diggle—and flashed an apologetic smile at Maria.

 

            “I’m sorry, I have to take this. Give me one second,” he stood up from the table and walked a few feet away before answering. “Diggle, perfect timing,” he’d been hoping for an excuse to cut this disastrous evening short. When he got a chance, Oliver was going to have words with Tommy. “What’s up?”

 

            _“It’s about your stepfather,”_ Diggle replied.

 

            “What about him?” Oliver asked.

 

            “ _He’s been rescued_.”

 

            “Thank god,” Oliver sighed in relief. “Hang on,” he went up to the front desk to ask for the check. “The police found him?” he asked Diggle, once he had paid the bill. Looked like he should give Detective Lance more credit if he and his men had located Walter before Oliver had had the slightest clue as to where to start searching…

 

            “ _No, they didn’t. Apparently your ‘friend’ in the cape did_.”

 

            “ **What?** ”

 

* * *

 

            “Mr. Steele, tell us more about the Cape. You get a good look at him?” Quentin asked, seated across from the CEO in the Queen living room. “We can come back with a sketch artist later, unless you’d like to drop by the precinct.”

 

            He noticed, out of the corner of his eye, Sergeant Faraday tensing. Just what he needed—his new recruit acting suspiciously. Lance filed that thought away to worry about when he had the time.

 

            “It was rather dark,” Walter shrugged. “And he was wearing a mask _and_ a hood to cover his features. I’m not sure that I could be of much help identifying him.”

 

            Vince kept his mouth shut, resolutely not asking his new boss why they needed to treat his alter ego as a criminal when he’d just saved the man they were interrogating. At least it seemed Steele bore him no ill will.

 

            “The Hood conceals his identity, too, but that doesn’t change the fact that every little bit helps,” Lance said.

 

            “Detective, I must protest,” Moira spoke up, “I’ve only just had my husband returned to me. He’s been through quite the harrowing ordeal. Couldn’t you leave him in peace for a little while? It’s hardly his fault that some vigilante is showing you up.”

 

            Quentin’s eyes snapped to Oliver, who was doing his best to stifle a grin. Lance scowled.

 

            “In case you’ve forgotten, Ms. Queen, that vigilante hasn’t brought your husband’s abductors to justice. They’re still out there,” he got to his feet. “When you’re ready to help us get to the bottom of this and hunt down the perpetrators, you let me know.”


	9. The Thunder Rolls

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Previously on “Black Bird; Green Arrow”:
> 
> "Peter Fleming is on the list," Diggle repeated.
> 
> "I think I've got a pretty good idea why," Oliver went over to the computer and pulled up Orwell's blog. "Take a look at this. Orwell suspects him of everything from trying to kill Palm City's Secretary of Prisons to illegally arresting and detaining citizens."
> 
> "Peter Fleming, you have failed this city."
> 
> "There was another murder last night," Quentin replied. "Same M.O. as Hunt's; taken out with black arrows… Your story checked out. Although you left out a few details—like the fact that you were too busy shaking down Peter Fleming to have killed Hunt.”
> 
> "I think this is what got Mr. Steele kidnapped," Felicity announced as she handed a slim brown-covered volume to the brunette. 
> 
> “The League was manipulating these people for its own agenda—and now the ones that Oliver Queen hasn't knocked off are being picked off by some sociopath trying to get his attention," Faraday concluded.

            “You’re welcome,” the Cape rasped the following evening, before turning to face the figure that had tried to sneak up behind him. “For rescuing your stepfather,” he elaborated. “You’re welcome.”

 

            “I hadn’t actually said thank you,” Oliver pointed out, not bothering to disguise his voice, but leaving his hood pulled low over his face. When the Cape merely stood there waiting, he went on. “Fine, yes, _thank you_ , although I doubt you did it for me. How did you know where to find Walter, anyway?”

 

            “You’re not the only one with tech support,” Vince smirked, unknowingly reminding Queen that the billionaire might be about to lose Felicity to ARK Corporation.

 

            “I’m sure your expert needed a lead to go on,” the archer prompted, trying to remain patient.

 

            “You’re right. That list you’ve been picking your victims from? Did anyone ever tell you who wrote it?” the Cape asked. “And yes, I know you got it from your father, but did he tell you what the list was for or what he was mixed up in?”

 

            Oliver glared at the other vigilante. His hands twitched towards his quiver, as he longed to put an arrow through the person talking so cavalierly about his father.

 

            “Don’t you dare,” Queen warned the other man. “Whatever my father may have done, he sacrificed himself for me—and I have done nothing since my return but work to give back to this city whatever he may have taken—”

 

            “I figured as much,” the cop interrupted him. “I don’t doubt that in his final moments he asked you to help him make amends, but he was clearly pretty vague on the details. Your father was a member of a group called the League of Assassins. It’s a society that destroys entire cities. Don’t feel bad; I’d never heard of it before either.”

 

            “Actually, I know that name,” Oliver’s eyes glazed over, as he lost himself in a memory, full of black-clad figures and the distant sound of waves.

 

            “Seriously, am I the only one who’d never heard of these people?” Vince complained, rousing the other blond from his reverie. “Go on, then, how did you know about them?”

 

            “You know the supposedly deserted island I was stranded on for five years?” the Hood asked. “It was full of the League’s ninjas.”

 

            The Cape blinked, and then whistled.

 

            “Ninjas, you mean as in sneaking up on you invisibly and then beating the crap out of you ninjas? And here I thought Tom Hanks had it bad in _Castaway._ ” Faraday wondered why the League had bothered with the list in the first place if they had ninjas, but then he supposed you could never have too many assets. “I guess that explains why you learned how to fight,” he continued.

 

            “Well, the ninjas weren’t exactly going to drive themselves off the island,” the Hood replied. It took him the better part of five years to defeat the League faction that had inhabited the island. Now he returned home only to find that another faction had already taken root in Starling City. “Somebody up there hates me,” he muttered. “So the list is of local League members?”

 

            “Hardly, that list was full of names the League assumed it could exploit to destroy Starling City.”

           

            “No,” the Hood shook his head. “No, that’s—that can’t be right. You’re mistaken.”

 

            “I believe that you started your crusade with the best of intentions, arguably better than mine were, but you’ve been going about it all wrong. The fact that a person’s name is on that list doesn’t mean that that’s who you need to concentrate on—though it probably wouldn’t hurt to keep an eye on them. All this time you’ve been looking to that list for guidance, you haven’t realized there are bigger fish out there.”

 

            “What are you saying—that you found Walter by thinking outside of the box?” Oliver asked drily.

 

            “We found him by asking the right question.”

 

            “And what was that?” the shipwreck survivor asked.

 

            “Who did your father work with in the League of Assassins?”

 

* * *

 

            “I don’t think you should be here, Malcolm,” Moira Queen said as the man brushed past her and into her home. “Walter has only just come home. We don’t need to arouse any suspicions, do we?”

 

            “I’ll be brief, then. I’ve been monitoring the team’s progress and we’re ahead of schedule. The Undertaking will be over before the week is out. Think you can keep Walter from interfering with our plans for that long?” Merlyn demanded.

 

            “I’ll handle it,” Moira regarded him coolly. Lowering her voice, she added, “in case you’ve forgotten, I’m not the one who let him escape.”

 

            “I admit there was a miscalculation on my part,” Malcolm conceded grudgingly. “But factoring this Cape into the equation won’t change matters. No one can stop us now.”

 

            “Indeed, well, if that’s all, Malcolm, I believe I have a husband to attend to. You know the way out.”

 

            She maintained her composure until the door clicked shut behind the Magician.

 

            She managed to make it into the parlor before collapsing on a sofa, and was still slumped there when Thea arrived.

 

            “Mom, what’s wrong?” her daughter asked, concern written all over her face as she took a seat next to her.

 

            “It’s—you’re too young to—”

 

            “Whatever the problem is, don’t you dare tell me I’m too young to understand,” the teenager interrupted her. Her fiery spirit heightened her unnerving resemblance to Merlyn. (Sometimes it felt like a miracle that no one had discovered her true lineage. But, Moira consoled herself, this was _her_ daughter, not Malcolm’s. She and Robert had raised Thea together and Robert would always be her father.)

 

            “Mom, you can tell me anything,” Thea insisted.

 

            How naïve she seemed to Moira! She could never tell her daughter that she had conspired with Malcolm to have Walter kidnapped, never mind the plan to kill hundreds, if not thousands, of their fellow citizens. She struggled to find something sufficiently innocuous to say.

 

            “Alright, suppose you got involved with the wrong people,” Moira began. She took a deep breath. “And you learned a secret.”

 

            “What kind of secret?” Thea chewed on her lower lip. She hated secrets, but lately it seemed that everyone around her had one.

 

            “The kind that could get people killed. The kind that could get your family killed if these people thought you had betrayed them,” she grasped her daughter’s hands in her own. “Thea, I would sooner die than let anything happen to you or Oliver.”

 

            “Or Walter,” Thea added.

 

            “Or Walter, of course,” Moira choked back a sob.

 

            “Mom, it sounds like you need to report whatever it is these people are doing.”

 

            “The police wouldn’t be able to stop it. More importantly, they wouldn’t be able to protect _you_.”

 

            “Well, what about the Hood, then? He could protect us! I’m sure he could help you,” her voice rang with hero worship.

 

            “Thea…” Moira shook her head. “Even if I trusted the Hood to help us, I wouldn’t know how to reach him.”

 

            Thea mulled over this problem in her head, before something occurred to her.

 

            “What about Detective Lance? He’s supposed to be some kind of expert on the Hood, right?”

 

            “Sweetheart, he thought that your _brother_ was the Hood,” Moira pointed out. The absurdity of that notion was understood.

 

            “Anyone would’ve jumped to that conclusion after catching Ollie with the Hood’s costume…unless they actually knew Ollie. Okay, maybe it’s a long shot! But do you have any better ideas?”

 

            Having Malcolm killed had occurred to her, although Ra’s al Ghul would only send another assassin to complete the mission and kill her for her treachery, so perhaps that wasn’t a better idea. Robert had been the last person who had stood up to the Magician. She wasn’t keen on being murdered as Robert had been.

 

* * *

 

            Peter Fleming tossed and turned on the king-sized bed in his hotel room, his sleep disturbed by bits and pieces of his memories.

 

_"You'll be in need of a new chief of police since your last one was killed,” the consulting detective said, as he prepared to leave Fleming’s penthouse. “After you've cleared Faraday's name, if he should happen to be alive—"_

_"No one could've survived that explosion," Fleming interjected._

_"So you would think…” Holmes replied._

_…_

_“What occurred to me,” the Hood, now revealed to be Oliver Queen, retorted, “was that a mask doesn’t hide your eyes. Once you’ve revealed those, you’re finished.”_ _The Cape swallowed nervously._

_…_

_Chess held the vigilante over the side of the ship by his cape._

_“I will find out who you are, I will find out who you love, and I will make them scream,” the villain hissed._

_…_

_“Sergeant Faraday,” Fleming greeted the job applicant who had just entered his office in ARK Tower. “I understand you’re originally from Palm City?”_  
  
           _“Yes, sir, I am. My father was a sheriff here before he died.”_  
  
_“Then you must hate this, the fact that a private security firm is doing the work of the police department.”_  
  
_“I just want to be a cop,” Vince insisted. Fleming smiled._  
  
…

_The Cape held onto Peter Fleming as he started lowering the bastard underneath the runaway train. Between the angle and the wind whipping past, the hero’s hood fell off, revealing his curly blond hair. The only thing preserving his secret identity was his mask._  
  
    _Peter stared at the Cape’s face. The younger man looked so familiar, but he just couldn’t place him…_  
  
_“Who are you?” he shouted._

_…_

_“I never take bribes,” Faraday spat back. The very idea was offensive. Fleming noticed the younger man’s reaction._  
  
    _“Forgive me. That was rude. We need men like you at ARK, Faraday. Welcome aboard.”_

            Peter woke abruptly, shooting out of bed, and certain that he now knew his adversary’s secret identity.

 

* * *

 

            “I’m… I’m sorry, I’m not sure that I heard you right,” Detective Faraday said to the woman who had come into the police precinct and been directed to the Anti-Vigilante Task Force. As he spoke, Quentin Lance approached.

 

            “Mrs. Queen? What are you doing here?” Lance asked, surprised to see her.

 

            “It’s the funniest thing,” Faraday answered for her. “She seems to be under the impression that you can send messages to the Hood,” he smirked at the ridiculousness of that idea. “I mean, you _hunt_ the Hood—all of us on the task force do,” he hastened to add. “But Mrs. Queen here seems to think you have him on speed dial. Crazy, right?”

 

            “Yeah, insane… Uh, listen, Faraday… why don’t you go look into those reports of sightings of the Hood and this caped character from last night?”

 

            “Sure thing,” Vince agreed, his smile gone and his eyes narrowed in thought as he walked away from the two. Looked like Lance was hiding something, not that Vince thought his new boss had an alter ego that dressed in leather hoods or silk capes or tights or whatever, but for all that the man had made his no-vigilante policy crystal clear, Vince was damned if Lance hadn’t just gotten rid of him because he _did_ have some means of communicating with the Hood.

 

            It dawned on him that it was possible that Lance, too, knew the Hood’s secret identity, whereas Oliver’s mother was patently still being kept in the dark.

 

            Lance sighed once the new recruit was out of earshot. This was sure to be an awkward conversation.

 

            “Mrs. Queen,” Quentin paused, trying to work out what to say to her. Obviously he wasn’t going to tell her about the phone the Hood had given him. “Given that there haven’t been any new suspects since, well since—”

 

            “Since you arrested my son?” she prompted.

 

            “Right, that, given that I don’t understand what you think I can help you with—”

 

            Just then, they were interrupted by a call over the police scanner. Someone had just gone on a killing spree at Unidac Industries.

 

            “Unidac Industries, that’s one of your husband’s subsidiaries, isn’t it?” Quentin asked.

 

            Moira nodded, her eyes pressed closed at this latest development.

 

            “If there’s any way you can get in touch with the Hood, Detective, you need to do it now.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title from Hurts’ song, “Silver Lining.”


	10. Gotta Leave On Time

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here’s some things you may need to know or, maybe, you just forgot: 
> 
> Peter Fleming, CEO of ARK Corporation has come to visit his daughter, Jamie Fleming, in Starling City. Vince Faraday, a/k/a the Cape, is also in Starling City—he’s now gotten a job with the Starling City Police Department in anticipation of his ex-wife moving there with their son. 
> 
> Shortly after their arrival in Starling City, Fleming was attacked by the Hood who, due to not owning a mask, was revealed to be Oliver Queen. The Cape later inadvertently revealed Oliver’s secret to Felicity Smoak, who was less than pleased. 
> 
> Oliver’s best friend, Tommy Merlyn, set Oliver up on a blind date, hoping to ensure that Oliver has moved on from Laurel Lance—Oliver’s ex-girlfriend, who is currently dating Tommy. The blind date was an epic disaster, thankfully cut short by a phone call from John Diggle.
> 
> Meanwhile, Malcolm Merlyn, a/k/a the Dark Archer or the Magician, member of the League of Assassins, began murdering members of the infamous List, while preparing to implement the Undertaking. Peter Fleming shed light on the true origin of the List and Moira Queen, Oliver’s mother, is now suffering a crisis of conscience.

 

            “You have a lot of explaining to do,” Oliver Queen growled as he advanced on his target, who took a step backwards in response.

 

            “Just calm down, take it easy! Give me another chance,” the man pleaded. “Alright, so things didn’t work out between you and Maria. That doesn’t mean you need to give up on blind dating,” Tommy tried to reason with his best friend. The two were once again in the nightclub-to-be.

 

            “I don’t understand how you even thought that the two of us would have anything in common!” Oliver cried.

 

            “Okay, in my defense, before the shipwreck Maria is _exactly_ the sort of woman you would have gone for. I mean, aside from Laurel, your dates weren’t that big in the IQ Department.”

           

            “Tommy,” Oliver took a deep breath and let it out slowly. Tommy wasn’t to blame. “You’re right.”

           

            “I am? I mean, yes, I am!”

 

            “But I’m not the same person I was before the shipwreck and you can’t keep setting me up with women that have no…substance. Hold that thought,” Oliver reached into his pants’ pocket for his new phone. “Tommy, I really need to take this.”

 

            “Okay. We can talk later.”

 

~QL~

 

            “Got my message, then?” Quentin asked as he watched Oliver Queen walk onto the crime scene in a business suit.

 

            “Detective,” Oliver greeted him. “If you didn’t have my phone number, you could have just asked Laurel how to get in touch with me.” The billionaire glanced around the immediate area in Unidac Industries and then lowered his voice. “I can’t imagine why you’d use the vigilante as a go-between.”

 

            “Could be I wanted to prove a point,” Lance replied.

 

            “And that point would be…?”

 

            “Fairly obvious,” Quentin muttered. “Why don’t you come with me? I can get you up to speed on the way.”

 

            “On the way where?” the younger man demanded. “You’re the one that asked me to meet you here.”

 

            “Yes, I did. And since this is your stepfather’s company, you can choose to stay here and talk with the others,” he glanced towards his SCPD brethren, “about what happened. But I thought you might want to have a chat with your mom first. She’s come forward to give a statement about the Dark Archer.”

 

~QL~

 

            “Mom, what’s going on?” Oliver asked as he burst into the room.

 

            “Should he be in here?” Vince Faraday looked to Lance, wondering about the break in protocol as the twenty-something took a seat facing his mother.

 

            “It’s fine. He’s with me. Let’s give them a minute alone. Mrs. Queen, we can call your daughter or your husband, if you wish.”

 

            “Thank you, Detective, but I’m sure Oliver is capable of giving his sister a call.” Moira waited until the door closed behind the cops before turning to her son. “There’s no easy way to say this, Oliver. I’m signing up for the Witness Protection Program.”

 

            “What? I don’t understand.”

 

            “There are choices I made that… I don’t know if I could have made them differently. I thought I was protecting this family and there is nothing I wouldn’t do to protect our family, Oliver. But because of what I did, peoples’ lives are in danger. I suppose it’s better if you hear it from me than from the media. You heard about what happened at Unidac Industries?”

 

            He nodded. “Why do I get the feeling those weren’t random murders?”

 

            “Unidac Industries developed a device that can create an artificial earthquake. Malcolm Merlyn is going to use it to level the Glades, unless the vigilante stops him first. I’ve asked Detective Lance to get in touch with him. Hopefully, it’s not too late to save the city…”

 

            “Where is the device?” Oliver tried not to think about the number of fatalities that would occur if they didn’t disarm it in time. There were millions of people that lived in Starling City and the Glades was a heavily populated neighborhood. It was where Laurel worked at CNRI to help the underprivileged.

 

            “I don’t know. Malcolm will never trust me with that information now. I wouldn’t be surprised if he picks a location at the last minute, just to make sure that no one is onto him.

 

            “Oliver, I know this is a lot to ask, but—”

 

            “You want me to go with you in the Witness Protection Program,” Oliver interrupted his mother.

 

            Once Moira had entered the program they would give her—and anyone going with her—a new identity in a new location. Then “Moira Queen” would disappear without a trace. She would have to cut ties with everyone she left behind, never seeing or speaking with them again.

 

            “You want me to leave Starling City,” he continued. How could he possibly leave Starling City now when he had sworn to protect it?

 

            “Ideally, Thea and Walter will come, too,” she broke into his thoughts. “I’m sorry, I know this city is your home, but we could make a new home somewhere else.”

 

            “Mom!”

 

            “I don’t have a choice!” Moira shouted. It was difficult to remain composed at this point. “If I stay in Starling City now that I’ve tried to sabotage the Undertaking, I will be killed. This is the only hope I have of surviving. You had to survive for five years on a deserted island; you have to understand where I’m coming from!”

 

            “If I go with you, I’ll never see Tommy or Laurel or anyone in this city again and if I stay, I’ll never see you again.” His eyes stung. Why did she have to put him in this position?

 

            “If Thea and Walter go with you and I don’t…”

 

            “I _know_. Oliver, if the cops and the vigilante can’t stop Malcolm Merlyn, I’m about to have a _lot_ of blood on my hands. You don’t need to make me feel any more guilt than I already do.” She put a hand over her son’s. “For five years, I thought you were dead. The last thing I want is to lose you again, Oliver. You don’t have to give me your answer now. They’re not going to move me while this is still going on. Please, just think about it!”

 

            “I have to go,” he stood up. “There’s someplace else I need to be. I’ll call Thea for you, but I have to go.”

 

~QL~

 

            “You alright?” Quentin asked once Oliver exited the room.

 

            “You knew what she was going to ask me…and you know why I can’t go with her, don’t you?”

 

            “Guilty,” Quentin held up the phone the Hood had sent him. “The phone was a nice touch but, in case you’ve forgotten, I wasn’t born yesterday.”

 

            “I was trying to give you plausible deniability,” Oliver called over his shoulder as he started heading for the exit.

 

            “True, not arresting you—again—could cost me my badge,” Quentin admitted as he followed after the billionaire. “But I think we have something more important to worry about right now. Apparently, there’s an earthquake-inducing device planted somewhere in the city. Don’t suppose you happen to know where it is? Right, didn’t think so. I’ve put in an application for an arrest warrant for Malcolm Merlyn, but something tells me that even if we catch him in time, he isn’t going to spill his guts. So I’m going to ask my boss to get started on evacuating the Glades until we find this thing.”

 

            “‘We,’ Detective?”

 

            “Pretty sure you asked me to join your team when you sent me this,” he gestured with the phone again. “And I think you had my answer when I slipped you— Hang on, that’s the Lieutenant over there. Be with you in a minute.”

 

~QL~

 

            “Quentin, I saw you talking with Lieutenant Pike just now. What’s going on?” Vince asked.

 

            “Oh, I think I’m going to be out of a job tomorrow. Don’t ask.” Geez, you’d think that you wouldn’t put your job in danger by taking steps to protect the city you had sworn to protect… “In the meantime, I need everyone we have combing through the Glades until we find this ‘Earthquake Device’ Moira Queen was telling us about. What do you say we start at CNRI? That way we can drag my daughter out of there while we’re at it.”

 

            “Sir, maybe we should drop by ARK Corporation first? I think I know someone that might be able to help us find the device.”   

 

            “Oh, who would that be?”

 

            “Faraday, just the man I wanted to see!” Peter Fleming strode towards them. “I’d like a word with you in private.”

 

            “Fleming, whatever it is—”

 

            “It happens to be about the Cape,” the Brit interrupted.

 

            Vince scrutinized him, and then decided Fleming was probably bugging him because he was, ironically, on an Anti-Vigilante Task Force.

 

            “It’ll have to wait,” he continued. “There’s an emergency.”

 

            Peter frowned as he watched the men leave. He didn’t like being ignored. There was only one thing to do.

 

~QL~

 

            “Ah-ha, found it!” Felicity exclaimed triumphantly hours later from the computer terminal she was working at in ARK’s building.

 

            “I found the Earthquake Device, too,” Orwell announced from her own nearby terminal.

 

            “Let’s call Detective Lance and let him know that it’s in an abandoned subway tunnel,” Felicity suggested.

 

            “But it’s not in a subway tunnel,” Jamie frowned.

 

            “Yes, it is, look,” Felicity showed the brunette her computer screen.

 

            “No, it’s… Damn. Come take a look at this,” the blogger gestured to what she had found on her computer.

 

            “But that means,” Felicity continued, her usual perkiness nowhere to be found.

 

            “There are _two_ Earthquake Devices and they’re on opposite sides of the Glades,” Orwell finished.

 

            “There’s not enough time to disarm one and then go disarm the other. I know I’m new to this, but I’m pretty sure Oliver can’t be in two places at once,” the blonde pointed out.

 

            “He won’t have to be,” Orwell assured her, as she reached for her cell phone and dialed. “Hello, Vince? Good news is we found what we were looking for. Bad news is you’re going to have to split up.” 

 

~QL~

 

            “Two devices, huh? That figures,” Quentin ran a hand through his hair. “Alright, I’ll handle the one in the subway tunnel, you take care of the other one, Faraday. Wish me luck.”  


            “Good luck! Listen, Lance, earlier when you were talking about getting fired, what did you mean?”

 

            “Oh, that. I might have told Lieutenant Pike that the Hood was supplementing information that we got from Moira Queen.”

 

            “That doesn’t make any sense!”

 

            “Less gaping, more saving,” Quentin admonished as he grabbed his jacket. “Those devices aren’t going to disarm themselves.”

 

            “Is your daughter safe?” Vince asked as they left the precinct and headed into the parking lot.

 

            “Didn’t I tell you? She’s fine. She’s in a locked interrogation room, screaming about her due process rights.”

 

            “You’re kidding.”

 

            “Nope; she’ll probably stop screaming when her voice gives out. Hey, don’t judge me. You’d do the same for your son, wouldn’t you?” he asked as he got into his car.

 

               “Good point,” Vince conceded. Lance sped off in his vehicle as Faraday headed into a nearby alley to change into his suit.

 

~QL~

 

            “…You didn’t have to meet me here,” Quentin grumbled, as he and the Hood explored the subway tunnel.

 

            “It’s safer this way. If Merlyn shows up, I can handle him while you focus on disarming the device,” the vigilante replied. “Are we going to talk about you knowing who I am?”

 

            “Not much to talk about. I don’t approve of your methods and I’d like to knock some sense into you if I could, but I get the feeling the city won’t be any better off with you behind bars.”

 

            “That wasn’t your attitude a few months ago.”

 

            “Must be getting desensitized by all the vigilantes running around,” Lance continued to shine his flashlight ahead of him as they searched.

 

            “Are they going to fire you?” the Hood asked.

 

            “Nah, I can probably get it knocked down to a demotion. Now would you focus? Ah, something tells me that big glowing thing is what we’re looking for.”

 

            Oliver nodded. “Here,” he held out a communications device to the detective. “My…friend…” Felicity was probably not one of his friends anymore, considering how furious she was with him. But at least she was willing to put that aside to help them tonight. “…is going to talk you through disarming that.”

 

            “You really think Merlyn will show?” Quentin slipped the communicator on and prepared to get to work.  

 

            “Either way, we’ve got company,” Oliver grimaced and reached for an arrow.

 

            Quentin looked up and noticed what Oliver had—they were now hemmed in by ninjas.

 

            “If you hit me with one of those things while I’m working here—” Lance warned, as Oliver started launching arrows at their attackers.

 

            “ _Detective Lance?”_ a voice sounded in his ear. “ _The first thing you’re going to have to do is…_ ”

 

~VF~

 

            “ _You’re doing great, Vince_ ,” Orwell’s voice sounded in her partner’s headset. “ _Just one more step and we’ll have that device neutralized_.”

 

            A black arrow whizzed over Vince’s hood and ended up in a nearby wall.

 

            “You’re not the Hood,” the Dark Archer noted as the Cape spun to face him. “I was supposed to be having a showdown with him tonight.”

 

            “That a fact? I guess you’ll have to settle for his understudy.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title is from Queen’s “Dead on Time.”
> 
> Thank you to everyone who has patiently waited for this chapter! And thanks to those who have commented or left kudos or bookmarked the story! 
> 
> We are nearing the end now! If anyone would like to see where the fic goes from here, check out the pretty comment button.


	11. The Battle Is On

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's some things you may need to know or, maybe, you just forgot: After Moira Queen decided to sign up for witness protection and share what she knows about the Undertaking, Felicity Smoak and Jamie Fleming tracked down both Earthquake Devices built by Unidac Industries. Quentin Lance set off to dismantle one of them, accompanied by the Hood or rather, as Lance knows, Oliver Queen. Vince Faraday, a/k/a the Cape, went off to dismantle the other, but was interrupted by Malcolm Merlyn, the mastermind behind the Undertaking. 
> 
> (Before proceeding, let me remind you that the tags say Chose Not to Use Warnings. Everyone on the same page? Good. You may proceed.)

            All in all, the situation could have been worse. Oliver counted only four ninjas that were underground with him, Detective Lance and the Earthquake Device.* After his time spent battling with the League’s forces on Lian Yu, this was practically nothing. He had lost track of the number of League of Assassin ninjas that he had killed, so it would take him no time at all to kill these—he frowned as a recent memory nagged at him.

 

            “ _Because it’s not enough that you’ve left a trail of bodies in_ _your_ _wake_ —” _Quentin’s voice ranted over the phone Oliver had sent him._

_“Detective, don’t exaggerate. I only kill when the situation calls for it.”_

 

            “ _Oh, yeah? Do you know how many people you’ve killed? Because I do—eleven so far in the less than three months since you came to Starling City. Don’t tell me the situation calls for it each time. You know when a situation calls for deadly force? When you’re_ ** _faced_** _with deadly force; when it’s the only way…”_

Oliver couldn’t afford to glance at Quentin now. He needed to focus his attention on the assassins that would happily (or at least stoically) kill them both without hesitation if given the opportunity. This, _this_ was the situation that Lance had been talking about. They were being faced with deadly force. Oliver would be justified in killing them to save their lives; he had no doubt about that.

 

            But, on the other hand, Oliver wanted Quentin to see him as something more than a killer. He could feel the detective’s eyes on him and he needed to prove to him and to himself that he could control his lethal impulses, that he could be more than a fearsome vigilante—he could even be a hero.

 

            Before the first ninja could charge at him, instead of taking a kill shot, Oliver aimed at his right foot and fired.

* * *

 

            There was a puff of smoke, a cape twirled, and the new vigilante was no longer standing in front of Malcolm Merlyn. Unfazed, the Dark Archer jerked an elbow backwards and, without looking back, hit his opponent in the face.

 

            “Trying to catch me off guard?” Malcolm asked as he turned to face the younger man. “You’ll have to do better than that. I spent _years_ training with the League of Assassins. I won’t be fooled by your parlor tricks.”

 

* * *

 

            The Hood head-butted another of the ninjas, then spun to block an incoming blow from a third, which he followed by delivering a roundhouse punch to his attacker’s head, and then flipped out of the way before the fourth could land a kick.

 

            Even though he had been tracking the vigilante’s deeds for months now, Quentin would (reluctantly) admit that he was impressed with the way Queen was handling four opponents by himself, but he didn’t have the luxury of watching the fight progress blow-by-blow. Time was running out and he had to focus on following the instructions to dismantle the Earthquake Device in front of him.

 

            Still, Lance was distracted by a shape flying through the air in his peripheral vision, before hitting the wall with a thud. He glanced away from his work to see that the four ninjas were now sprawled out, none of them even groaning or twitching.

 

            “They’re alive,” Oliver rasped,** “though they won’t be getting up and bothering us anytime soon.” He pulled back his hood. “How’s it coming?”

 

            _“You’re almost finished_ , _Detective,”_ Felicity said. “ _All you have to do now is cut the wire and you’re done._ ”

 

            Quentin squinted at the machinery in front of him.

 

            “Which wire are you referring to?”

 

            “… _You mean there’s more than one?_ ”

 

            “Of course there’s more than one! There’s always more than one!” Quentin tried not to give in to hysteria, but it was a little bit difficult as he saw the timer start counting down from forty-five seconds. “Oh god, oh fuck!” he ran a hand through his hair. He looked up and met Oliver’s eyes.

 

            “Never thought you’d be the one with me when I died,” the detective said. He wondered if his cell phone would get a signal down here. Surely he had enough time left to say goodbye to his daughter. He started to reach into his pocket for the phone, but found he couldn’t look away from the billionaire, who was gazing at him intently and coming closer.

 

            “I’m sorry,” the younger man murmured, as he drew closer still.

 

            “Oh, there’s gotta be worse people to die with,” Lance spoke quickly, aware that their time was running out, but having trouble coming to terms with it. Was it just him or was Queen really close right now?

 

            “I meant that it’ll be my fault if you die now. I shouldn’t have gotten you involved,” the vigilante clarified.

 

            “Don’t do that,” Quentin jerked his head from side to side. “Protecting the people of this city is my job, ok? I knew what I was signing up for, I knew the risks—”

 

            With his right hand, Oliver picked up one of the tools they’d brought with them and clamped it around one of the machine’s wires, ready to sever it. His left hand came up and gently curled around the back of Quentin’s head.

 

            “What are you doing?” Lance asked.

 

            “Saying goodbye in case we don’t make it,” he replied quietly before taking a deep breath. “Here goes nothing.” As the blond cut the wire he’d chosen, he leaned in and pressed his lips to the other man’s. Caught by surprise, Quentin’s mouth opened and Oliver’s tongue found its way inside.

 

            If asked, Quentin wouldn’t be able to say why he responded to the kiss. All he knew was that it felt amazing. For the moment, thoughts of impending doom were held at bay.

 

            When they finally broke apart, they found the timer had stopped at two seconds.

 

            “I guess we’re not dying tonight after all, Detective.”

 

            “Good, that’s good. That means you have time to tell me what the hell just happened,” Lance demanded. He resisted the urge to touch his lips, which felt like they were tingling.

 

            “The short answer is that I’m going to have enough regrets when I leave this world and I didn’t want one of them to be that I never worked up the guts to kiss you.”

 

            “Kissing me was on your bucket list? Are you kidding me?” Quentin started to pace, then realized he’d have to step around the still forms of the unconscious assassins and stopped.

 

            “Maybe I could give you the long answer over dinner?”

 

            “You’re insane, although I don’t know why this is news to me given that,” Lance gestured to the Hood’s getup.

 

            “Was that a ‘no’ to dinner?” There was a pause.

 

            “Coffee,” Lance counteroffered at last.

 

* * *

 

            The fight was not going well. So far Vince had been unable to use the cape to tear the Dark Archer’s bow away from him and it wasn’t doing him much good against the man himself, either. If—no, **when** —Vince got out of this, he was going to have to go back to Max Malini, his mentor, for more training.

 

            He swore he could hear the timer on the Earthquake Device counting down the seconds until it detonated.

 

            Oh, no, wait. That was Jamie’s voice in his ear, reminding him that he was running out of time.

 

            “ _Goddamn it, Vince, do something!_ ” she yelled. “ _Fifty seconds left!”_

 

            “Why are you doing this?” the Cape asked his opponent. “You have to know you’ll die, too.”

 

            “My life ended twenty years ago when Rebecca was murdered,” Malcolm Merlyn snarled. “If it’s the last thing I do, I am going to put an end to the **cesspool** that claimed my wife’s life. Nothing else matters and no one is going to stop me, least of all you.” As he finished, he drew back his bow, a black arrow fitted and aimed at the Cape’s heart.

 

            Before he could release the arrow, a gunshot went off. Bow and arrow fell to the ground as Malcolm’s body collapsed, a bullet hole through the center of his forehead. Vince saw Peter Fleming standing, his arm still outstretched, holding a literally smoking gun.

 

            “ _TWENTY SECONDS!”_ the blogger screamed, reminding the hero that, even in death, the Dark Archer could still win. Faraday hurried back to the device and, following Orwell’s instructions, yanked a particular wire. The timer froze with ten seconds to spare.

 

            The Cape turned his back on the now harmless machine and saw that Fleming was standing over the body (though carefully avoiding the pool of blood).

 

            “I caught his monologue,” the Brit said, still looking down at the corpse. “Losing your wife will do that to you; I reacted similarly when Danielle was murdered. That was when Chess was born,” he revealed, referring to his alter ego. “Who knows how far I would have gone if I hadn’t had a daughter to raise?”

 

            “What are you doing here?” the masked man asked, drawing the billionaire’s attention.

 

            “I followed you when you left the police precinct without speaking with me, _Faraday_ ,” Peter replied. “Yes,” he held up a hand to forestall any denials, “I figured out your identity. I should have figured it out ages ago but, in my defense, for quite some time I believed you were dead.”

 

            There had to still be a way out of this, Vince thought to himself. He had an identical twin in town; maybe Ian would help him?

 

            …Yeah, like anyone would believe Ian was the Cape. _Damn it._

 

            “What do you want?” he demanded.

 

            “Oh, don’t look at me as though I’m going to shoot you next. I did just save your life. A ‘thank you’ would be appreciated.”

 

            “Thank you,” Vince spat out between gritted teeth. “Now, what do you want?”

 

            “You think I have some sort of evil master plan, is that it?” the engineer drawled.

 

            “You usually do,” the cop pointed out.

 

            “Alright, as it happens, I am currently trying to work out a plan—”

 

            _Here it comes_ , Vince braced himself.

 

            “—to seduce you,” Peter finished.

 

            “Come again?” Vince blinked. He obviously hadn’t heard that right.

 

            “I know we got off on the wrong foot,” the older man continued.

 

            “The wrong foot? You tried to kill me!” Faraday reminded him. “You framed me for your crimes and you threatened to kill my family. You ruined my life!”

 

            “Now be fair—your life isn’t over yet. And things have been looking up since I cleared your name, have they not? You’ve gotten a new job in a new city, a fresh start, as it were. I think we should start over, too. Give me a chance. You may find that I can be charming when I put my mind to it.”

 

            “I’m not going to let you charm me!” Vince protested.

 

            “We’ll see about that,” Peter quirked his lips. Winning someone over wasn’t so different from a game of chess, after all. It required strategy, perseverance and patience—all of which he had in abundance.

 

* * *

 

            Meanwhile, at her temporary station in ARK’s building, Felicity’s cheeks were scarlet.

 

            “I guess it’s true that all the good ones are gay, married or taken,” she started, once she had hit the button that would stop broadcasting her voice to Detective Lance. She was so grateful they didn’t have surveillance cameras in that abandoned tunnel. No need for her to see her recent crush making out with someone else; hearing about it was bad enough. “Or I guess in this case bisexual and taken. That settles it. I really need to move out of Starling City. You said you had a job offer for me? I’ll take it. How far away from here can you get me?” the blonde finished.

 

            “Is Palm City far enough?” Jamie inquired.

 

            “That should do it, yes. When do I start?” the younger woman asked.

 

            “Slow down,” the brunette raised her hands in a calming gesture. “You can start at ARK as soon as you get settled there, but there is something I would like you to do that isn’t going to be part of your official job description, if you’re up for it.”

 

            “And that would be?” Felicity’s brows furrowed. She should have known it wouldn’t be that easy.

 

            “You know that I was Orwell,” Jamie began.

 

            “I thought you still were,” the former Queen Consolidated employee interrupted.

 

            “I haven’t really been acting as Orwell since I moved here,” the heiress corrected her. “Between getting closer to my father emotionally and moving further away from him geographically, I haven’t been in much of a position to use my blog to keep him on the straight and narrow path. And I love him, I’ve accepted that, but that doesn’t mean that I trust him. Someone has to be there in Palm City to expose his deeds to the public or there’s no telling what he’ll get up to.

 

            “How would you like to be the new Orwell?”

 

            “Are you serious?” Felicity gaped at her. She had not been expecting that. “Wow, that’s a huge responsibility. I mean, yes, I’d love to!”

 

            “Good,” Jamie smiled. “That’s settled. Welcome to ARK Corp.”

 

* * *

            “How is it,” Quentin addressed Vince at the precinct the next day, “that Malcolm Merlyn got shot dead right in front of you and your report doesn’t even give a description of the shooter?”

 

            “I can explain,” Faraday began, though he wasn’t sure that he could. He’d wanted to arrest Fleming and, since this was Starling City, not Palm City, and Peter Fleming didn’t own the police department here, there wasn’t really a reason for him to let Fleming act as though he was above the law. Except “we wouldn’t have had a case against him anyway,” the blond pointed out. “Like it or not, he was justified in using deadly force to save me and half the citizens that were still in the Glades.”

 

            “But who was he? This isn’t your call to make. Even if I agree with you and the D.A.’s office agrees with you, you still can’t fudge the paperwork—”

 

            “LANCE! Get in my office!” Lieutenant Pike shouted.

 

            “Perfect,” Quentin grumbled, as he stood up from his desk. “Don’t think that you’re going to be off the hook for this just because I won’t be in a position to lecture you anymore,” he warned Faraday. “Hey, don’t look at me like this is the end of my career. So I may get busted down to traffic cop for a while. Big deal; won’t be permanent,” he assured Vince, though he wasn’t sure who he was really trying to convince.

 

            “It’s not fair for them to discipline you. You didn’t do anything wrong,” Faraday called after him as Lance approached Pike’s office.

 

            _I wish that was your call to make_ , Quentin reflected as he knocked on Pike’s door.

 

            “You wanted to see me, Sir?”

 

            “Shut the door and sit down,” Pike ordered. “Now,” he continued once Lance was seated, “I’ve thought about what discipline would be most appropriate in your case and—” his office phone rang, interrupting him. “Damn it, I told them to hold my calls. One second,” he picked up the receiver. “Lieutenant Pike speaking… What? When did that happen? …Yes, I understand. Of course… Fine. Goodbye,” Pike hung up the phone and looked at Quentin. “You’re in luck, Lance. Orders are that no one is to make any personnel decisions without authorization from the new higher ups.”

 

            “I don’t understand, Sir.”

 

            “Go take a look at the local news,” the Lieutenant advised him. “We’ve just been bought.”

 

            “Bought?”

 

            Lance left Pike’s office confused, and made his way over to the remote for the police station’s main TV set.

 

            “What happened, Quentin?” Vince asked.

 

            “Hush,” Lance said, as he found a news station and raised the volume.

 

            _“Again, we are coming to you LIVE, from City Hall, where in just a few moments the mayor is expected to make an announcement that Starling City’s police force has just been privatized. Peter Fleming, the CEO of ARK Corporation, has reportedly just entered a contract that turns full control over the city’s law enforcement to ARK, making this the second city in the nation to have a privatized police force—”_

            “Son of a bitch!” Vince swore. Of course, why was he surprised? Clearly Fleming wasn’t taking any chances that any of his actions in Starling City would come back to haunt him. Moving to Starling City wasn’t even enough to get him out of the bastard’s grasp. He wasn’t working for the S.C.P.D. anymore; this deal made him an ARK employee, the one thing he’d been avoiding since he’d revealed to the world that he wasn’t dead. Just when he thought that he had a chance to be happy here…

 

            His cell phone rang. He looked at the caller ID before answering.

 

            “Dana?”

 

            “ _Vince, hi… Listen, I’ve been rethinking the whole moving to Starling City thing.”_

 

            “You and me both,” he blurted out. What was the point of moving here now that ARK owned the police force?

 

            “ _Oh, thank god! So we’ll both stay in Palm City and we won’t have to worry about changing our custody arrangement?”_

 

            “Looks like,” he agreed. “But what happened to Jack? I thought you were moving here to be with him?”

_“I was going to, but I didn’t get the job with CNRI. I thought I was going to have to beg Travis for my job back, but he said he hadn’t even scheduled any interviews yet.”_

 

            “Where does that leave you and Jack?” Vince asked, desperately latching on to any topic of conversation that didn’t involve ARK Corp., even if that topic was his ex-wife’s current boyfriend.

 

            “ _I don’t know. We talked about trying to make a long distance relationship work, but_ …” she trailed off. The truth was she wasn’t that confident that their relationship would survive. “ _There’s always other guys, right?”_

 

            “Damn right,” Vince assured her. At least one of them should be happy. And he still loved Dana enough to _want_ her to be happy. “I’ll see you when I pick up Trip on Friday?”

 

            “Yep, see you then. Bye, Vince,” she said before disconnecting the call.

 

***Patent pending.**

****He knew he no longer needed to conceal his voice from Quentin, but one of the assassins had tried strangling him before the Hood had gotten loose.**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title is from Queen’s “Ogre Battle.”
> 
> Disclaimer: Though this fic deals with legal concepts, this does NOT constitute legal advice. If you need legal advice, you should contact a lawyer and see about hiring him/her.
> 
> Thank you again to those who have added the fic to your list of alerts or bookmarks or who have left kudos or comments! 
> 
> Anyone going to stick around for the epilogue? Let me know. Hey, check it out, there’s a comment button!


	12. The Future Years

            As Laurel came to, she noticed the sound of beeping. It took a few moments for her to piece together that that was the sound of a heart monitor, which explained what was hooked up to one of her fingers, and that she must be in a hospital bed. She also registered that someone was holding the hand that was not hooked up to any devices. She opened her eyes.

 

            “Tommy?”

 

            “Oh thank god!” Tommy Merlyn exclaimed. “You really had me worried there for a minute.”

 

            _Ugh_ , her throat ached as if she’d been screaming. Tommy offered her some water from a pitcher that had been left on a stand near the hospital bed, and she drank the better part of a glass before her curiosity got the better of her.  

 

            “What happened? Where am I?”

 

            “You’re at St. Andrews Hospital. Of all the places for the bar association to hold its annual meeting, it just had to be in Central City! You’ve heard of Star Labs, right? Maybe you heard about their new particle accelerator? Well, after they turned the damn thing on, it exploded.”

 

            “Exploded?” Laurel frowned. “But I’m pretty sure the meeting wasn’t being held near Star Labs.”

 

            “Doesn’t seem to matter, the whole city got hit with god knows what. I came here as soon as I could. How are you feeling?”

 

            “Like I’ve had better days. It’s probably nothing that a little tea with honey can’t cure,” she did her best to sound optimistic, despite her stomach going jittery at the thought of not knowing what she was doused with and what symptoms might develop. “Thanks for making the trip out here. It means a lot to me that you’re here.”

 

            “Getting to Central City was easy enough. But once I got here I had to tell them I’m your husband in order to see you. You’re not going to rat me out, are you?”

 

            “I suppose there are worse things than pretending to be married to a young, handsome billionaire,” she teased.

 

            “Good, that’s, I’m glad you see it that way. Laurel, do you have any idea how scared I was when I heard you were in the hospital and that there had been an explosion? I thought I might never see you again, I thought maybe you’d never wake up,” Tommy fought back tears.

 

            “Hey, it’s okay. You’re not getting rid of me that easy, Merlyn.”

 

            “I don’t want to,” he reached into his pocket and withdrew a small black box.

 

            “Tommy, what are you doing?” Laurel asked, all traces of humor gone.

 

            “What I’ve been trying to get up the courage to do for awhile now, and what I was afraid I might never get the chance to do—Is it okay if I don’t get down on one knee here? I’m willing to do that part later on, after you’re discharged. Okay? Here goes,” Tommy opened the jewelry box, revealing a small gold band with a rather large, gleaming diamond set in the middle. “Dinah Laurel Lance, will you marry me?”

 

            “Oh my god,” the heart rate on the monitor picked up speed.

 

            “I don’t want to rush you, but I think a nurse is probably going to come in any second, and it might be hard to explain why your ‘husband’ is proposing to you…”

 

            “Get over here,” Laurel tugged Tommy down into a kiss. “Yes, Tommy Merlyn,” she told him firmly, “I will marry you.”     

* * *

 

            “You missed all the fun,” the Cape called to his former nemesis. After Vince had finished his latest battle, Peter Fleming,* decked head to toe in his red leather Chess costume, had arrived on the scene, just a few minutes too late to be of any help. It was just as well, Vince thought, since he didn’t _need_ any help and, if left to his own devices, Chess’ help would involve killing or seriously injuring the Cape’s opponent. Vince’s protests always fell on deaf ears, so he was all too often left in the unenviable position of having to do his best to protect his enemies from his insane, overprotective partner.

 

            “Did I, though?” Chess asked, as he drew nearer. He pushed back the Cape’s hood, fisted one hand in Faraday’s curls, and brought their lips together. Their kisses, such as they were, tended to be just shy of violent, as if neither had quite accepted that they had stopped being sworn enemies.

 

            “Stop,” the Cape chastised him after they broke apart. “We’re in public. Someone might see us.” His son might not know that he was the Cape, but he was damned if he was going to let Trip know who his hero had taken up with.

 

            “Who cares? In case you’ve forgotten, I own all the reporters,” Chess murmured to him. He didn’t need to add that that meant none of the reporters would dare speak a word against him.

 

            None of them, that is, except Orwell, but fortunately for both Vince’s and Felicity’s peace of mind, she had foregone assisting Vince tonight in favor of going out on a date.

 

            “You still need to stop following me on patrols. I’ve told you before that I don’t need a sidekick—”

 

            “I’m warning you, if you call me a sidekick one more time,” Fleming growled. Vince was sure the threat would have been clear in his eyes, if Peter’s eyes weren’t obstructed by those truly awful contacts.

 

            “I’m not afraid of you,” the cop insisted. (He had resigned himself to working for ARK Corp. in Palm City, on the understanding that Fleming was to leave him alone at work. Surprisingly, for the most part, he had.)

 

            “That’s because you’re too stupid for your own good,” Fleming sighed, but the hero had a point. The days when he was a danger to the Cape were over. It seemed there was nothing he wouldn’t do for Faraday.

 

* * *

 

~ _And Another Two Years After That~_

            “What the hell do you mean, I don’t get to be best man?!” Ian complained. “ _I’m your brother_.”

 

            “But you’re not my best friend. I’ve seen you maybe four times in as many years,” Vince retorted.

 

            “At least I was on board with your relationship before you even knew that you liked this guy! You can’t just snub me for some--”

 

            “Watch it,” Rollo warned. The little person wasn’t going to tolerate crap from anyone about his height, even if that person was his best friend’s brother.

 

            “Gentlemen,” Max Malini spoke up from his seat. “If you’re done with your pissing contest, I have one question for the groom. Is there going to be an open bar?”

 

* * *

 

            “I just have one question, Dad—are you blackmailing him?” Jamie asked during her videochat with her father.

 

            “How can you even ask that?” Peter demanded. Jamie just stared at him. “No, of course I’m not. I promise that he said yes of his own free will.”

 

            “Then I’m happy for both of you. Congratulations!”

 

* * *

 

            “ _Good evening, and thanks for joining us. Our first story this hour—Assistant District Attorney Laurel Lance has entered the race for county District Attorney. Current poll numbers show that she has a strong lead following her successful prosecution of Damien Darhk, who is serving his sentence in Iron Heights for murder and racketeering. Lance started her legal career at C.N.R.I. before joining the Metahuman Crimes Unit of the District Attorney’s Office. Her husband, Tommy Merlyn, CEO of the Merlyn Global Group, introduced her before she announced her candidacy this afternoon._

_“Police say that the Green Arrow and metahuman Black Canary helped them apprehend five men suspected of—I’m sorry, we’ve just been alerted that there’s breaking news. We’re going to go now LIVE to Queen Consolidated, where I understand that CEO Oliver Queen is about to announce he’s running for mayor of Starling City. Our reporter, Vanessa Jenkins, is on the scene. Vanessa, what can you tell us?”_

_“John, everyone thought that the biggest story about Oliver Queen this year was going to be his upcoming wedding to Captain Quentin Lance of the ARK police force, but Queen has proved us wrong. Captain Lance has just entered the stage. He’s expected to introduce his fiancé to the crowd tonight—”_

_“Vanessa, real quick before Captain Lance starts his speech, do you think the timing of Oliver Queen’s engagement is going to hurt his candidacy?”_

_“John, his opponents are likely going to latch onto the fact that Queen used to date the daughter of the man he’s now engaged to and use that to question his values. If that tactic works, it could potentially also hurt Laurel Lance’s campaign for District Attorney; it’s unclear how their campaign managers are planning to deal with the candidates’ pasts, but Queen is well known for his humanitarian efforts—”_

_“Good evening,”_ Quentin addressed the crowd. “ _Gee, I feel like I was at one of these earlier today… Oliver’s campaign manager didn’t want me addressing the crowd tonight. Course he would’ve postponed our engagement, too, something about my endorsement would’ve meant more if I didn’t seem biased, but he’s not calling the shots._

_“I stand before you not only as Oliver’s fiancé, but also as the man who arrested him…on more than one occasion_.” The crowd laughed. “ _Now you see why Davis wanted Thea to give this speech. But I’m giving it because I can tell you that no one has more cause than I have to question the idea of this man running for mayor. I’ve seen him at his worst._

_“But I’ve also seen him become a different person. I don’t mean a businessman—being able to keep the money he inherited doesn’t make him a good person, doesn’t make him someone you should vote for. But making sure money goes where it’s needed most makes him a philanthropist. I don’t need to tell you about the causes he’s championed in recent years…_

_“If he’s been an inspiration to the entire city, it’s because this city inspires him every day to be a better person. I can’t think of anyone more dedicated to Starling City or better suited to being its mayor. And so it is with great pleasure that I introduce to you Oliver Queen.”_

            In a modest suburban home, a woman once known as Moira sat with her husband in front of the television and watched as her son took the podium to thunderous applause, her daughter standing nearby on stage, cheering him on.

 

            “You must be so proud of them, Darling,” the man who used to be called Walter said as he put an arm around his wife’s shoulders.

 

            “I am,” she smiled, as tears spilled down her cheeks.

 

THE END

 

***This scene is told from Vince’s point of view in that he does not know that Chess is a separate personality and so uses the names interchangeably. The reader can decide which, if either, of Peter Fleming’s personalities is in control at any given time.**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The epilogue’s title comes from Queen’s “You and I.”
> 
> Oh, my god. It’s been years since I started this fic. “Arrow” was still in season one then. 
> 
> I know, I know, I first posted the epilogue last summer, but I felt that the epilogue could’ve used more Laurel & Tommy, hence I wrote what is now the first scene of the epilogue, which I am reposting so you get the new and improved version. I apologize for any inconvenience. 
> 
> There were times I didn’t think this fic was going to be finished and I’ve always vowed to never abandon a fic. Thank you to the readers who stayed with me through the end. This fic would not be complete without you.
> 
> Thanks to those who have commented, or left kudos or subscribed or bookmarked! 
> 
> This is the end of this fic, but fear not! You may remember that I still have a WIP—“Not In Palm City Anymore.” Cape fans, please feel free to go check it out. 
> 
> And everyone please feel free to tell me what you thought of the fic in general and/or specifically the epilogue. The one caveat that has not changed is that criticism should be constructive. Flames will be material for my jokes and possibly plot bunnies.


End file.
